Angels Without Wings
by Scarlett Wilde
Summary: 2009 When Sam gets a frantic phone call in the middle of the night from a girl he knew from Stanford, he knows he needs to take the case. Castiel, however, does his best to convince Dean that taking the case is a very bad idea.
1. Chapter 1

**Fic title:** Angels Without Wings

**Author name:** Scarlett_wilde

**Artist name:** Yanjara

**Genre:** wincest

**Pairing:** Dean/Sam

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word count: **32,189

**Warnings/Spoilers:** contains wincest and graphic slash, mentions of possible mpreg – but no _actual_ mpreg happens in the fic.

**Chapter 1:-**

"Wazzat? Make it stop…" Dean mumbled, turning over in his sleep and burrowing further under the pillow.

When it didn't stop and Sam didn't seem to be doing much in the way of finding it, Dean threw one of Sam's pillows in his general direction and smirked at the 'hey' that followed the dull thump.

Sam groaned as his phone started the relentless buzzing again, and it was obvious it wasn't going to stop until he got up, found his pants on the floor and answered the damned thing. And that was easier said than done in the pitch black room in the middle of the night, when he couldn't remember which part of the room he'd dropped his pants in.

"Sammy, make it stop," Dean's muffled voice groaned from under _his_ pillow.

"I'm tryin'," Sam snapped, terser than he meant it to sound. But then his foot caught in fabric and a quick scramble meant Sam had finally located the cell phone from hell. The caller display said Unknown Caller, but he answered it anyway. Obviously whoever it was wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"_Sam? Sam Winchester? Is that you?"_

Sam frowned into the phone. "Umm, yes?" he mumbled, still sleepy.

"_Oh thank God. I've been trying to… oh, I don't know where you are… Is late where you are?"_

"Yeah, kinda. Who is this?" He scrubbed his hand over his creased forehead and hoped to hell this was important or otherwise he was gonna put Dean on the phone and let whoever it was bear the brunt of his brother's lack-of-sleep-meanness.

"_Oh yes, sorry. I hope you remember me. It's Angel Marin from Stanford."_

Sam vaguely remembered someone called Angel, but…

"_I was a friend of Becky's, Rebecca Warren? She gave me your number and told me to call you… I have a problem that no one else can help me with…"_

Oh yeah, Sam remembered Angel now. She was the quiet, mousy one who always hid herself in Becky's shadow. "I remember you. What can I help you with… it's kinda late here and…"

"_I'm really sorry. The thing is, I got married recently and we moved into my husband's family's farmhouse. But the thing is, and everyone thinks I'm insane, I think the house is haunted. Ever since we moved in, there's been this… presence… I think it's a man, but I could be wrong… I feel him watching me, hiding in the shadows…"_

Sam stopped her, holding up his hand even though she couldn't see it. "Angel, I…"

"_I'm not making it up, Sam. There is something in that house and it doesn't like me. My husband thinks I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I heard him talking on the phone about having me committed. Then yesterday, I happened to bump into Becky, and she asked me what was wrong with me because I looked dreadful… and the whole thing just came pouring out, like the verbal vomit I used to get when I was nervous in college, remember?"_ she paused but not for an actual answer. _"Sam, please, I'm begging you for help."_

Sam remembered Angel's verbal vomit. Whenever they had to do a presentation, or a debate, or anything that required her to stand up in front of more than three people at a time, she'd just start spouting words and not stop until someone – usually Becky – made her stop. "Did you tell Becky everything? I mean, did she tell you about what it is that we do? What my brother and I do?"

"_Yes, she told me everything. Told me that you helped her a while back when her brother was in trouble. I told her about the nightmares, about the strange presence I can feel, and even about how the house doesn't seem to like me. She gave me your number and said that you'd understand… that you'd be able to help… that you wouldn't think I'm mad at all…"_

"I don't think you're mad, Angel. Tell me about the nightmares," he said, keeping his voice hushed and soothing, and not rush her. His interest had definitely spiked, even for the middle of the night when he'd much rather be curled up in bed.

"_They started about a week after we moved in. They're different from any kind of nightmare I've ever had. They're, well, they are almost sexual… but rough… and unsettling. It's a man, always the same man, and he has me tied to a chair, and I'm gagged, and he starts touching me – not gentle – and wrapping his hand around my throat until I can't breathe. Or he'll start cutting away at my clothes and nicking my skin, saying things like 'how pretty you bleed for me'. And they feel so real… I wake up in the morning and the first thing I do is check to see if I have marks of any kind on me. Of course, there never are because I'm just dreaming."_

Sam 'hummed' and 'ahhed' in the right places as he listened. Her voice was verging on becoming hysterical and he could tell that she was genuinely scared. He glanced at his brother lying motionless on the bed and tried to decide what to do…

"_Please help me, Sam. Please. I don't want to be committed…"_

Sam wondered if there was ever a doubt that they wouldn't help her. He wasn't programmed that way, and neither was Dean. Dean could never turn down the chance of a good hunt. "We'll help you," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving his brother's still form in the huddle of motel blankets. "Just give me your address and we'll be there as quickly as we can. I'll call you in the morning – _my morning_ – and let you know the plan."

"_Oh, thank God. Thank you, Sam, thank you…"_ Angel recited her address for Sam and then hung up, apologizing once again for calling him in the middle of the night.

Sam switched the cell phone off and placed it on the wobbly excuse of a kitchen table before walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He only remembered his nakedness when he started shivering.

"Get back under the covers, moron," Dean's muffled voice ordered.

Arms enveloped Sam, pulling him back into the warmth of the bed, and into the warmth of the bare skin that met his. Sam curled instinctively into Dean's body and wrapped his arms around his brother's back.

"Got us a gig?" Dean yawned, lips brushing over Sam's collar bone as his mouth stretched wide.

"Looks like it," Sam nuzzled into the touch, the feel of Dean's warm, moist breath on his skin made him tremble again.

"Gonna tell me 'bout it? I don't have your psychic 'bilities," Dean muttered from where his face was now buried in the curve of Sam's neck – which was just about his most favorite place to sleep.

Sam relayed the story Angel had given him over the phone, mentioning how scared she'd sounded when she'd begged for help.

"Never were one to turn away a damsel in distress," Dean whispered, his voice seeming much louder than it was in the stillness. "I'm guessing you already told her we'd take the job, huh?"

Sam nodded but didn't answer. He just lay there enjoying the closeness of his brother, the feel of Dean's hands slowly caressing intricate patterns on his back, the flutter of Dean's breath against his neck, and the beat of his heart against his own chest.

He sometimes wondered if Dean had any real clue of the way these little things, these intimate moments, between them affected him. He wondered if Dean relished them as much as he did. It had been even more needful since Dean had come back from Hell… like Sam had to constantly reassure himself that Dean really was here and wasn't going to disappear while he slept. Deep down inside, Sam knew Dean needed those same touches, those same intimate reassurances that he did, but they didn't talk about it.

Dean couldn't get close enough to Sam if he tried, and he _had_ tried. Sometimes he wanted to crawl inside Sam and just stay there, breathing the same breath, feeling the same emotions. He wondered if Sam would ever know how important he was to Dean. How every moment spent in Hell was filled with thoughts of how to get back to Sam. _His Sam_.

The warmth of Sam's body was lulling him and his mind was wandering to thoughts of Sam at Stanford. And it wasn't that Dean hated Sam for going there – or more truthfully, for leaving him – but it was more to do with the innate curiosity as to what Sam was like when he was there. Was he the same Sam there as he was when he'd been with Dean before… or afterwards?

Dean had only ever really met Rebecca from Sam's days – weeks… months… years - there. He'd wanted to ask Becky stuff about Sam from those days but things had gone slightly belly up when a skinwalker stole his identity and tried to kill her, and afterwards, he hadn't had a chance.

There were a lot of things about Sam that Dean didn't know. And he hated that. He himself was pretty much an open book, or at least he considered himself to be. But there was just this ominous cloud that hung over Dean that he didn't quite know everything about Sam – and he wanted to. It was more like a _need_ to every little detail about him, as if it would bring him closer.

Yeah, he knew what turned him on, knew the places to touch to get an instant reaction, knew that words could get him just as hot sometimes… And he knew all the regular stuff like Sam's favorite band, and song, and what his favorite food was, which was his favorite book and why, what his favorite color was, his favorite holiday – or rather, lack of favorite holiday.

But Dean had always had this feeling, ever since Sam first learned to walk and talk, that there were facets of Sam he'd never fully know, or understand. And it made him ache deep down inside.

It didn't hurt as much as knowing that his brother had fucked that demon bitch though. Nothing could hurt as much as that slice of life had. Every time he thought about it, it still cut like a knife to the gut. Hated thinking about Sam's hands all over her stolen body, her hands all over him.

He sucked in a sharp breath and asked: "Why, Sam?" before he could stop himself.

"Why, what, Dean?"

"Why'd ya fuck her?" Dean couldn't stop himself from asking. As if, somehow, knowing would make it hurt less.

"Don't ask me that, Dean. Please…" Sam's voice stuttered falteringly in the darkness. They'd promised with unspoken words to never talk about that again.

"I just… I need to know… okay?"

Sam sighed softly, burying his face into Dean's neck and wishing he could just not do this… ever. "I can't. I just… no, I can't… don't ask me…"

Dean moved away from Sam enough so that he could cup his brother's jaw and look him in the eye. "I need to know, Sam. I need to know because every time I picture it, it cuts me up, and I can't bear it eating away at me from the inside out…"

"Because I was drunk, Dean… because I was hurting so far inside I wasn't sure I'd be able to crawl back… because everything I tried to bring you back failed, and I couldn't even bear trying again… because all I wanted was you… to feel you… touch you… hold you…"

Sam's voice echoed like a scream in Dean's ear, and Dean could feel the wetness of Sam's tears against his hand. He brushed them away by slowly swiping his thumb over Sam's cheekbone. He couldn't speak, all he could do was share Sam's pain the way he had been doing all their lives.

"She was just there… and you weren't… and she pushed herself at me… and I needed. I needed. But I wanted you… I needed you… but you were gone… and you weren't coming back… and I just needed to feel something more than nothing all the time…"

"Shh," Dean whispered. "Shh. I'm back now, Sammy, and I'm never going to leave you again. Not if I can't help it. You know that. I never wanted to leave you. I get why you did it, though. I get why you needed it… just wish it had been anyone but _her_," Dean bit the last sentence out between clenched teeth.

"I wish it had been anyone but her, too, but I can't go back and ask for a do-over, Dean. I'm sorry it happened, though. Sorry I let myself be manipulated into that. She saw how much I ached over losing you, and she clawed her way in. I can't---" Sam's voice broke, his quiet speaking louder than his words had.

Dean pulled him back in, cradled him in his arms and whispered that it didn't matter any more, that he was there now and she wouldn't get to touch Sam ever again. "You shouldn't feel guilty… I shouldn't have made you feel guilty… never meant to… just hate the thought of her… touching what's mine…" Dean's whisper was broken, fragmented into tiny little shards, already embedded in his soul.

"I couldn't go through it again, Dean. I couldn't go through losing you again. I swear, if you ever…"

"I'm right here, Sammy. Feel me. I'm warm… I'm breathing… and as long as I am, I'll never leave you. I can promise you that," Dean whispered, keeping his voice hushed as he kissed along Sam's jaw bone.

Sam leaned eagerly into the touch, craving the intimacy his brother shared with him. He'd never needed it more than he did, right there and then, in that dingy motel room with its threadbare curtains, sticky carpet, and dubious bedspread.

Dean's kisses became more urgent against Sam's mouth, with teeth-clashing and lip-bruising force. Tongue pushing in between the seamed lips, forcing its way inside to lick and taste Sam.

Dean arched into Sam's body. He loved the hard feeling of muscle and toned sinew pressing back against him. He loved knowing he could be rough if he wanted to, that Sam would take it… would be more than willing to take it…

Sam's hands spread out, covering almost the whole of Dean's lower back. Fingers pressing into the muscle. Sam holding and rolling them until Dean lay cradled in the width of Sam's spread thighs. Cocks, hard and hot, rubbing against each. Friction so sublime they rocked harder, seeking out more.

Wordlessly, Sam reached under Dean's pillow as they kissed, as they rutted frantically against each other, fingers searching for what he knew was there. Dean's hand covered Sam's and together they withdrew what they needed. A small tube of lubricant and a double foil of condoms. They really needed to buy these things in bulk instead of just grabbing what they needed when they needed it… but then, things would get desperate and frantic with a flick of an eye, or an innocent touch that lasted a second longer than necessary, and they'd grab enough to get them through the night.

With a well-practiced ease, Dean flipped the cap on the tube and squeezed enough lube out to coat his fingers. Working his hand between their plush bodies, Dean went back to kissing Sam as he worked him open. It didn't take much, Sam was as eager for this, needed this, as much as Dean did.

Sam reached between them and wrapped his hand around the thick columns of both shafts, stroking hard and slow, tip to base, base to tip, as if he were trying to make them into one.

Dean's stomach fluttered against Sam's. "Keep doing that and I'm not gonna need this," Dean murmured, the gold foil between his fingers rustled, fingers of his other hand still busy inside his brother, stretching, stroking...

Sam nipped Dean's lower lip, sucked it into his mouth and ran his tongue along the bite mark. His hand never faltered on their cocks as he kissed hard into Dean, tonguing his way into Dean's mouth. Too _filthyhotwetwantneednow_ to be anything but sexy.

"You have no fucking idea…"

Sam knew that was one of Dean's ways of saying _I love you_. They'd never said it to each other – not in _that_ way at least, never needed to. It was just one of those unspoken things, like who topped and who bottomed and _absolutely no switching, Sammy, got it?_

Dean broke away from Sam with a hoarse, reluctant groan and only stayed away long enough to tear open the foil and roll the condom down over his pre-come slicked cock before he was back down in the haven of Sam's thighs, cockhead pressing against the tight, lubed hole.

Sam's knees pressed against Dean's hips, urging him on. Feet winding themselves around Dean's calves. Sinewed muscle against sinewed muscle.

With a broken '_Sammy_' hanging on his lips, Dean surged forward entering his brother in one thrust… filling him and stretching him wide…

Sam clutched at Dean's biceps, back arched and head falling back onto the pillow, he waited for the first burning thrust… sharp and thick…

Dean's hips stuttered. He bit down on his lip as he fought the urge to thrust wildly into his brother. Willing himself to not come just from being inside Sam. It was hard, though, with Sam urging him with words, with his eyes, with his body.

"Don't… Dean… Just… move…" Sam grunted out. "If you don't… I'mma gonna flip us…"

And oh God, if that didn't turn Dean on enough to spur him on to move. He pulled back until just the head was still inside Sam, then thrust hard and deep back into the tight heat that surrounded him. Over and over, until he felt like he was drowning in the tight feeling surging through the pit of his stomach.

Push and pull… in and out… again and again… over and over…

Panting… grunting… gasping… whimpering…

Sam's fingers dug into the muscle cording along Dean's arm as he fought to hold himself above Sam. Feeling Sam arch beneath him, teeth bared in agonistic ecstasy. Feeling Sam clenching around his cock as he came, hot, wet spurts between them, slick, viscous…

After that, Dean had no chance. He thrust deep, burying himself balls-deep and came with a satisfying grunt. "Holy fuck…" he murmured before collapsing on top of Sam, breathless and winded.

Sam chuckle-grunted beneath him. "You wanna get off anytime soon, Dean…"

"I just did, Sammy… or was I dream-fucking you again?" Dean chuckled. Still, he eased gently out of Sam and rolled to his side. After he'd removed and tied off the sticky condom, and aimed it in the direction of the bin, he curled possessively around Sam with his face buried in Sam's sweat-damp neck.

Sam rolled his eyes in the dark, wiping across his stomach with the corner of the scratchy sheet.

"Don't do that," Dean mumbled, sleep already dragging him back under.

"Do what?" Sam yawned and nestled into the curve Dean's body made against him.

"Roll your eyes at me," Dean told him, the words punctuated by noisy yawns. "`S'always been you…" he yawned again. "Never been anyone but you."

Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's temple and yawned his own tiredness out. "I know."

Sleep came quickly for both of them, but morning came too quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:-**

The following morning, Sam woke later than normal. His body ached in all the right places and he smiled to himself as he rolled over. Fragments of the previous night started filtering into his brain. The frantic phone call from Angel. The midnight confessions and the subsequent sex session.

He rolled over only to realize that Dean was already up and about… and in the shower by the sounds of it. In the shower but not washing if the low moans were anything to go by.

The longer Sam lay there picturing Dean under the spray of water, cock tight in his fist as he stroked himself, the harder Sam got. His cock curving up towards his belly button beneath the covers, already leaking and slick across the slit. Wrapping his hand around his shaft, he stroked the length firmly, closing his eyes so he could feel and listen at the same time.

Then he chuckled to himself and threw back the covers. He couldn't believe he'd been wanking to the sounds of his brother wanking in the bathroom. Less than six feet and one wall was all that separated them… and a bank of fog that indicated there'd be no hot water left for his shower if he didn't jump in with Dean.

Still, from where he stood in the doorway, Sam took a moment to watch Dean's silhouette through the steam. Tall, lean, muscular. The embodiment of an urban warrior. It made Sam's mouth water to watch his brother taking his own pleasure from his own body.

One hand stretched out, steadying himself against the tiled back wall. Dean's legs splayed, making them more bowed than usual. Head dropped down, as if watching his own hand sliding along the thick shaft. Sam could even picture his pouting lips parted, tongue darting out every so often, or his teeth catching the edge of his bottom lip as the pleasure mounted.

"Gonna just stand there watching… or ya gonna come in here and help me out?" Dean called out huskily, not turning his head in the slightest.

Sam opened the clear Plexiglass shower door and stepped into the thick heat. The shower was the only decent thing about the motel room. Enough room for the two of them. Water hot enough to scald. Decent shower head that let out more than a trickle at a time.

Dean felt Sam press against his back. Felt the kisses hotter than the water on the back of his neck. Felt the solid line of Sam's cock against his ass, pressing into the groove between his cheeks. Hard and insistent. Felt the slow tangle of arms snaking around his waist, long fingers sliding along the grooves of his hips.

He watched from narrowed eyes as Sam's hand came to cover his, still fisting his cock with the same deliberate motions. "Sammy," he groaned, leaning back into the wall of muscle that belonged to his brother. Sam's fist tightened around his own and pumped the shaft with harder strokes.

"Its okay, Dean…" Sam whispered against the shell of Dean's ear and Dean shivered, his whole body on fire from those three words.

Dean felt Sam shift behind him, felt the heat of Sam's cock, hard and heavy, moving between his thighs, thick head pushing against the tight full mass of his balls as Sam got them both off, matching his thrusting to his hand wrapped around Dean.

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Sam's large hand around his shaft. God, he loved Sam's hands. Truth be told, they weren't much bigger than his own, but Sam's fingers were slimmer, elegant and more supple than his own. They were the hands that did wicked things to his body. Just the sight of one of Sam's hands wrapped around his cock was almost enough on its own to make him come.

"Gonna make you come so hard you see stars…" Sam growled, biting the soft spot just below Dean's ear.

Dean groaned. Liquid fire coursed through his veins, and he was so close… so close… that he could almost taste it. The slow slip-slide of Sam's cock between his thighs is the closest they've come to switching, and Dean has often wondered if one day he could bottom for Sam, but knows it's equally likely to never happen… but this is nice, he likes the feel of his brother's cock sliding between his thighs like that… pushing him over into bliss…

When he came, it was with a low grunting growl of satisfaction. His hooded eyes watched as thick spurts of his come hit his and Sam's joined hands, his own stomach, and even the shower wall.

A moment later, he feels Sam's body tense behind him. Hears a grunted out curse, then feels the thick viscous heat of Sam's come against the back of his balls, sliding down his thighs. Watched as the last of the hot water claimed the mingled fluids and washed them away.

Dean slumped back against Sam's body, letting his brother's arms keep him upright. "Damn, Sammy…"

"See those stars I promised you, huh?" Sam snorted softly. His hands were resting on Dean's firm stomach, holding him against him as the water started to cool.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that. We'd better wash up quick before the water turns any cooler." It was hard, but Dean finally forced himself out of the cocoon of Sam's arms.

They washed themselves quickly and finished just as the water ran cold as ice.

As they dried themselves off, they argued over what to have for breakfast with Dean opting for his favorite McDonalds.

"Dean, I don't think I can face another McDonald's breakfast for the rest of this year," Sam pulled a face and groaned.

"Well, what do you want then?" Dean huffed. It was hard to stay mad at Sam when he was walking unabashedly naked around the motel room as if he owned the place.

To think he had once spent a whole summer teasing Sam for being skinny and lanky, and then spent the following summer teasing him for the arrival of puppy fat and teenage acne.

Now, though… Now Sam was just about the most gorgeous thing he'd ever laid eyes on, and he just wanted to stare, to drink in the sight of the tanned, long, lean muscles dancing as he pulled fresh clothes out of his duffle bag and threw them onto the bed.

"Stop staring at my ass," Sam snorted without turning around.

"Then don't flaunt it in my face," Dean begged, voice breaking only very slightly. He was getting better at this.

"See, if my ass was in your face, that would prove you're short," Sam laughed and ducked as the wet towel Dean had been using came flying at his head.

"Bitch." Dean shook his head but he couldn't stop the grin from sliding across his face.

"Jerk," Sam carried on laughing. "Get dressed, and go get breakfast."

"You get dressed and get breakfast," Dean pouted. "If I go, I'm going to McDonalds." He dropped back onto the bed, propping his naked body up on his elbows, eyes still watching the flawless lines of Sam's body.

Sam stopped what he was doing and walked over to stand between Dean's legs, eyes raking over Dean's pale, freckled body, pausing at the tattoo that decorated his collarbone… the twin of the one that was etched onto his collarbone in the very same place. "How about we both go, and then we can get what we want?"

"Sounds like a plan," Dean smirked, beckoning Sam down for a lingering kiss.

Twenty minutes later, they were both sat in the nearest diner and ordering the breakfast special from the sassy waitress, whose name tag read Cindi.

"She was flirting with you," Dean scowled as she walked away to get them both coffee. "If she leaned over any further, you'd have had a faceful of boobs."

"Dude, she wasn't flirting. She was just being nice," Sam scoffed, bumping his knee against Dean's under the table. "If she was flirting wit anyone, she'd be flirting with you."

Just then, Cindi came back with Dean's black coffee and Sam's cappuccino. She set then down on the table and smiled at Sam. "I put extra whipped cream and chocolate in your coffee, honey."

"Thanks," Sam smirked, holding back the snigger that threatened to erupt at the indignant look on his brother's face. Okay, so maybe she was flirting a little bit.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Dean growled, pushing himself out of the booth. Without blinking, he grasped Sam around the neck and pulled them together for a teeth-clashing, soul-searing kiss that left both of them breathless and gasping. Then he spun on his heel and marched in the direction of the men's room.

"Guess there's giving you my number then?" Cindi laughed.

"Not really," Sam smiled back, relieved that she took the alpha display so calmly.

"Totally read you two wrong," she mused, frowning slightly. "I thought you were brothers when you walked in. Just shows how wrong a girl can be. The best ones are always either taken or gay."

Sam just nodded as she walked away to collect their breakfasts.

By the time Dean strutted out of the bathroom, the food was on the table, and his mood lifted almost instantly he forked scrambled eggs into his mouth, much to Sam's amusement.

An hour later still, as they packed, they discussed the best way to get to Angel's place in Lincoln, Massachusetts. Thankfully, they'd both been on the road so much during their lives that they practically were walking road maps. Sam could see that Dean was already mapping out the route from Illinois to Massachusetts.

"I'm just gonna call Angel and let her know how long it'll take us to get there," Sam called out from the bathroom

"I'll go put the gear in the trunk. Don't take too long or they'll be charging us for another hour," Dean winked, grabbing the bags and heading out the door as Sam stated dialing Angel's number.

Dean was whistling to himself as he unlocked the trunk and checked the weapons box before stowing the two duffle bags containing their clothing. Any day that started with his brother's hand on his cock was a good day, in his personal opinion.

Any day where he went on to have his own personal guardian angel popping up at random moments wasn't so good.

"This isn't a good idea," Castiel said by way of a 'hello'.

"Hello to you, too, sunshine," Dean scowled sarcastically. "You ever thought about calling instead of just showing up uninvited?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Castiel replied.

Dean just threw the angel an arched brow, along with a half-scowl. "So, what exactly isn't a good idea?"

"Loaded question," Castiel said as he walked around the car to face Dean. "Where do I start? Oh, I know. This thing between you and Sam is a sin in the eyes of God, and in the eyes of your fellow mankind. How about stopping?"

Dean squared up to the angel, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, well, _you_ don't got a say in that. No one does. Not God. Not anyone. That is the one area of my life that you get to stay out of." The words were spoken low, but no less powerful. "Sam is mine. Always has been and always will be."

"Still a sin, and you know it," Castiel frowned.

"Doesn't matter. I'd gladly go back to Hell for him. And that's what bother's you, isn't it? That I would gladly go back to that to than give up what little happiness we have together?"

Though it couldn't be seen in his face, Castiel's eyes flashed angrily. "Hell isn't an option for the time being."

Dean peered at the angel from beneath his lashes. "What? You're not going send me back for being in love with my brother? Wow, I don't know what to say. I'm touched. Truly touched…"

"Don't go to Lincoln," Castiel held up his hand, effectively shutting up Dean from continuing his defense.

"Huh?" Dean frowned. Frustration hummed through his taut body at the quick turnabout in conversation. He often felt that around Castiel.

"It's a really bad idea for you and Sam to try and save Angel. There are some decisions that you can never walk away from."

"For an angel, you're kinda infuriating," Dean grumbled. "Look, if you really want to help, smite Ruby for me and I'll maybe consider listening to more of your wonderfully cryptic crap."

"You want me to smite a demon for you?" Castiel came the closest to smiling over the request than he had ever done before.

"Smite the bitch," Dean said, dropping his gaze to the ground and closing his eyes. It didn't make him feel good, but it didn't make him feel bad either. He just couldn't bear the thought of Ruby being around, waiting for the next moment of weakness when she could worm her way into Sam's arms… even worse, into Sam's bed… He didn't want her to be a possibility in the future, near or far. He wanted her gone for good.

Castiel nodded, then closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. Lines of deep concentration etched across his features before he opened them again and directed his gaze to Dean. In a deep conspiratorial whisper, he told Dean it was done, that she'll not bother them again.

Dean nodded his thanks, and hoped that this never came up in any conversation with Sam. Not that he though Sam harbored anything even near close to feelings for her, but just that it was another black mark against Dean's name.

"You really love him, don't you? You would go back to Hell for him if you had to? I don't get you humans at all… that you can be so selfish and so selfless all at once," Castiel spoke softly. "This is why you have to change your plans. Lincoln is a bad idea for the two of you."

"It's too late. Sam's calling her right this minute to tell her we're on our way," Dean explained. "What's so bad in Lincoln that we need to stay away from? It can't be anything we haven't already faced at least once…"

"I can't tell you exactly what. I'm not sure I even fully understand the implications myself," Castiel explained.

"Some good you are," Dean flustered, his arms flailing in the air as the last shreds of his almost non-existent patience ran out. "What's the use in having some fucked up guardian angel if all they do is talk in riddles and… and… Huh?"

Castiel shook his head. "Things are the way they are for a reason. I cannot just hand you the answers on a silver platter and hope you'll play along. You just need to know that if you go to help this Angel, there will be things there that you cannot just walk away from. You or Sam. You need to be warned."

"You know, I'm sick of this, just spell it out…" Dean spun and slammed down the lid of the trunk

"Spell what out, Dean?" Sam's voice came from behind him. "Sorry it took so long. Angel's really scared. Took me a while to calm her down, but I promised her we'd be there as quickly as possible."

Dean frowned, eyes searching over Sam's shoulder for his own errant angel but found nothing.

"You okay? You look kinda…" Sam started.

"Kinda like I had a meeting with my own angel?" Dean muttered. "I hate it when he does that popping up and then disappearing thing without actually telling me anything worth a shit."

"Ah," Sam nodded. "What shards of wisdom did Castiel offer this visit?"

"Told me we shouldn't go to Lincoln. That if we do, we're gonna encounter something we can't walk away from," Dean explained, voice still rising from frustration.

Sam shrugged. "What's that supposed to mean? That could mean anything. And we can't walk away from Angel now. I've promised her, and honestly, I think she really needs our help."

"No, no," Dean shuffled closer into Sam's personal space. "We should go. I'm not saying otherwise."

"Good," Sam smiled, reaching out a hand to fist in Dean's shirt.

Dean glanced around the motel parking lot and decided the place was deserted enough for him to step right up to Sam, wind one arm around his neck and kiss the side of his neck. "C'mon then, let's get movin'"

Sam nodded, before grabbing harder at Dean and pulling him in for a proper kiss. "Now we can get going," he smiled, and they climbed in the car.

~ O ~

The trip from Illinois to Massachusetts was remarkably boring, save for the nights they spent in various motel rooms, in various blissed out states of either constant arousal or satiated exhaustion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:-**

It was later afternoon when they finally pulled up outside Angel's husband's family farmhouse. Neither man made a move to get out of the car.

"Something on your mind, Sammy?" Dean arched his brow when five minutes later, they were still sat inside the car, with the crappy heater making a pathetic attempt to keep them warm.

"Angel knows," Sam said eventually.

"Knows?" Both eyebrows arched.

Sam swiveled to face Dean. "Angel knows we're brothers. I guess Becky must have mentioned it when she told her to call us. We have… what I mean is, we can't…" he shrugged sadly. "I wouldn't have told her otherwise."

"It's fine, Sam. It's not your fault," Dean smirked. "Though I gotta admit, I'm not so keen on the idea of separate beds. We haven't slept in separate beds since well, you know."

"I know. But it'll just be a couple of days, or nights, whatever. It's not going to be forever or anything. I think you'll manage for a couple of nights." Sam grinned, shaking his head.

"I might, but will you?" Dean answered with a pointed nod. Then he became somber again, "You don't think she'll notice do you? I mean, other people do even when we hide it."

"Are you saying our preferences are obvious?" Sam nudged. "That we're obvious?"

"Maybe. Other people seem to think so," Dean nodded. In his mind, he ran through some of the most recent comments they'd received. Like the comment they'd received on the last grocery run, and the woman behind the counter told him that her brother's friend ran a gay magazine and they were always looking for real couples to pose naked for spreads. Apparently, readers these days preferred realism.

"Well, whatever. Angel knows we're brothers, and though I doubt she'd be narrow-minded enough to be bothered about us being gay, I do think she'd have a serious issue with us being gay together," Sam explained, as if he were talking to a five year old – which described Dean perfectly when he was in the mood to _not_ listen to what Sam was saying.

"Incest. Illegal in every state," Dean smirked, earning him a thump in the arm from Sam. "Okay. I got it. No kissing in front of her. No intimate snuggles of the Sammy-kind for the next few days. No hot monkey sex for either of us until we leave here. I'm not happy about this, you know."

"I know," Sam said quietly. "I'm not liking it much either, so kiss me now before we go in."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Dean waggled his eyebrows and grinned. "If I start, I might not be able to stop." But he still slid across the front seat of the car and wrapped his hand around Sam's neck, pulling their heads closer and kissing him, hard and rough and almost as if their lives depended on it. When they finally parted, breathless and panting for air, Dean chuckled. "I'm going to die of blue-balls."

"Dean, seriously? I don't think you can actually die of blue-balls," Sam snorted.

"You don't know that for sure," Dean started, but stopped when Sam quickly pushed him away and shuffled as far as away from Dean as he could get. "What the…?"

"Angel," Sam said through his teeth, and nodded out of the fogged up window.

They both saw a dark, hooded figure coming through the snow towards them.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my hands off you completely, anyway," Sam shrugged, grinning, as he reached for the door handle.

"You are so fuckin' cruel," Dean snarled, but the grin was already creeping across his face.

"C'mon, get out before she…"

"Sam, I'm so glad you're finally here," Angel greeted him as he climbed out the car.

In the seconds that followed, Sam took careful stock of the small woman. She was the same person her remembered underneath the very dark circles beneath her eyes, and sickly white pallor of her skin. She had the eyes of a terrified child, eyes that are hiding things too scary to talk about. Haunted eyes.

But that's all he gets to see before she's wrapping her arms around him and crying into his sweatshirt.

"I half-thought you might not come… That you were just being polite or something. I wondered if you might think I was completely insane… That's what Rosemary thinks, so of course, Robert sides with his mother…" she rambled on, still with her face buried in Sam's chest.

Dean had gotten out of the driver's side and was currently arching his brow at Sam over the car's roof.

Sam shrugged and ran a hand across her back, soothing and stroking her, willing her to calm down a little. "I said we'd come and here we are."

Angel sniffled, wiped a hand across her eyes and looked up at Sam, then turned slowly to look at Dean, who was moving around the car. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I guess I was… am… just so relieved that you're actually here that I forgot about your brother." She smiled shyly in Dean's direction.

"This is Dean. Dean, this is Angel," Sam introduced them.

"Hi," she said softly, staying close to Sam's body. "I'm glad you're both here. Though I still think you'll think I'm insane when you hear the whole story. Why don't you grab your bags and come inside. There's fresh coffee, and the fires blazing." Then she finally stepped away from Sam and nodded towards the farmhouse door. "You can leave your boots and coats by the door."

Dean waited until she was back inside the house before he spoke. "Heh. She likes you, huh? Barely cast a glance in my direction."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean…" he said in an exasperated tone.

Dean just smirked and popped the trunk. He threw Sam's duffle bag at him, and grabbed his own. "Think of it as punishment for not being able to sleep together."

"Oh yes, `cause it's totally my fault Becky told her you were my brother. It's gonna be just as bad for me as it is for you, you know." Sam bemoaned.

And it was true. Dean knew that. Sam hated him even being out of his sight since he'd finally crawled out of Hell, and he couldn't blame him. The feeling was mutual. It was part of the reason why they no longer chose to hide, from themselves, from everyone else – well, anyone that didn't already know their brotherly status anyway. It wasn't like their dad was around any longer to take a shotgun to them. Okay, there was Bobby, but so far he'd overlooked the obvious, and Dean hoped it stayed that way. He liked Bobby.

"We ought to get inside. Snow's coming again, and it's getting heavier," Sam said, looking up at the white sky.

Dean nodded, but the hand on Sam's lower back as they walked up to the door was possessive even if it couldn't be seen.

"You wanna dump your bags and come and have a coffee first?" Angel said, lingering in the doorway, watching them with an odd expression.

"Coffee sounds like music to my ears," Dean told her, following her into the warm kitchen. The room smelled of fresh roasted coffee and out-of-the-oven cinnamon rolls. Dean's stomach rumbled at the smell and he flushed.

"I guess hungry too," Angel smiled, pushing a plate of pastries towards him. "I usually serve dinner around seven. That's when Robert gets home. Usually. Unless the weather is so bad that the roads are blocked. That's happened a few times already this winter."

"So you're often home alone, then?" Sam asked, sipping the hot coffee he'd wrapped his hands around.

"Yeah, since we moved out here. You can see we don't have many neighbors. In fact, the closest house is my mother-in-law's. She lives about half a mile down the road, though it's quicker to hike across the fields, even in snow this deep. Oh and old Mr. and Mrs. Medford. They live in the cottage out back and help around the place," she explained. "I should let you get settled in first before I tell you everything. At least if you're unpacked, you're less likely to run away." She laughed, almost like she was trying to make light of things, but it fell flat, and she looked from Sam to Dean and back again, seeking the reassurance of someone familiar.

"We're not gonna run, okay?" Sam moved forward and put his hand on her arm. "We'll help however we can. I promise you."

"Becky said you'd help," Angel nodded. "And you were always so nice at college, even to me, me who nobody else ever noticed." Her eyes filled with tears again as she looked up at Sam.

"It's all right, Angel. We'll figure out what's going on and do whatever we can to help you," Sam assured her once more.

She nodded again, silently. "I'll take you up to your rooms. Let you get settled in."

In the hallway, the two boys grabbed their bags and followed the tiny woman up two flights of narrow, winding stairs.

"I hope you don't mind, but I put you both up here in the attic. Apart from the main bedroom, none of the other rooms on the second floor have working fireplaces, and trust me, you'll be needing them." She pushed open a white tongue-and-groove door and stepped aside to let them pass, then followed them in.

Dean dropped his bag on the bed and moved over to the fireplace, stretching his hands wide and warming them through.

Angel walked across the room to another door, opening it wide. "This is the second bedroom, and that door there," she pointed to a third door the same as the other two. "That's the bathroom. The shower can be a little sporadic in working, but the tub works fine. Also, there are fresh towels and extra blankets in the linen closet. Just help yourselves to whatever you need."

"Thanks Angel," Dean spoke. He'd been quiet since they'd entered the house. Sam knew why, though. He knew Dean was looking at everything, making mental notes and deciding how to approach this possibly simple haunting.

"You're welcome. Now, I'll let you get sorted out while I go and start dinner. Just come down when you're ready and I'll tell you everything," another small, soft, watery smile and she was heading back down stairs.

"Dude, we have separate rooms not just separate beds," Dean groaned when he was sure Angel was out of earshot. He flopped down onto the bed in the second room.

Sam snorted. "Dude. It's just for a couple of days… nights… whatever."

"I'm not happy `bout it. Just saying," Dean sulked.

"Yeah, and you keep saying ever since I told you back in Illinois. Get over it," Sam rolled his eyes before becoming serious. "Did you pick up on anything when we walked into the house?"

"No," Dean frowned. "You?"

"No," Sam echoed. "We need to scout out the place sooner rather than later. Did you see how scared she looks?"

"Yeah," Dean rolled off the bed and came to stand in front of Sam, hands curling into the front of his sweatshirt. "We can do that after dinner."

"Or we could do it now," Sam wrapped his hands around Dean's wrists.

"Or we could do it later," Dean winked and pulled Sam into a bruising kiss.

Sam put up little resistance at the press of his brother's lips against his, parted his mouth willingly to allow his tongue access, letting his own tangle with Dean's, and swallowing the soft sighs offered.

They jumped apart when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted them. They literally flew to opposite sides of the small room as if each other was on fire.

Castiel sat on the bed, watching them with his interest etched clearly into his features.

Sam swallowed his bitterness and turned to gaze out of the window instead of looking at the angel. The last thing he needed Castiel to see was his own jealousies plain on his face.

"Man, you have _got_ to stop doing that," Dean hissed. "Can't you like, knock or something? Send a text message when you feel like dropping in?"

Castiel shook his head, making tut-tutting sounds and looking from Dean's pissed off features to Sam's indignant back. "I've told you before, there's no fun in announcing myself. It's more fun to catch you in a forbidden embrace."

"And I've told you before to mind your own business where me and Sam are concerned." Dean growled. "I am beyond your redemption. I chose this life and I'm more than happy with my choices. I'm happy with Sam." He looked across at Sam as he spoke.

"What do you want, Cas?" Sam asked quietly, his back still to the room, and his eyes on the row of white fields in front of him.

"Just as I told Dean, you both need to leave this place." Castiel glanced from one brother to the other.

"So you said before," Dean retorted. "But unless you tell us specifically what, then we're staying. That woman downstairs needs our help."

"No, she doesn't," Castiel stood up, his tan overcoat seemed to move fluidly of its own accord. "She doesn't need the kind of help you can give her. She needs help of a different kind…"

"Are you trying to tell us she is insane?" Sam snapped, not caring about being overheard. "Are you trying to tell us she's making everything up? Why would she do that?"

"I'm not saying that at all," Castiel moved across to stand in between the brothers. "I'm saying that you are the wrong people to help her. There is something unnatural and unholy hiding in the shadows of this place, and you need to leave."

Sam snorted loudly. "What could be more unnatural and unholy than two brothers who are in love with each other? Who sleep with each other?"

Castiel's face contorted into one of anger. "You flaunt this in front of me time and time again. Why is that? Why do you feel it necessary to prove this fact to me over and over again?"

Dean stepped in the middle of the tangible tension. "You leave Sam alone. You hear me? You leave Sam alone." Then he turned to Sam, "Go wait in the other room… no, go wait downstairs. I'll be down in a minute, okay?"

Sam scowled at Castiel. Then he nodded at Dean and spun on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him.

"If you can't tell me exactly what it is we should be running from here, then we're staying," Dean snarled through clenched teeth.

"Then you'll pay the price," Castiel sneered back.

"For a guardian angel, you pretty much suck," Dean told him.

"Yeah," Castiel nodded. "You've said that before. I came here to warn you, and I've done that. I cannot make you listen to reason, so…"

"Listen to reason?" Dean snorted, turning his back angrily on the angel. "You haven't given us a reason… just more cryptic bull…"

But there was nothing, no argument… No Castiel. Damn it, but that angel infuriated him. Even more than Sam did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:-**

Dean came downstairs to some of the most mouthwatering smells he'd smelled for a very long time. If he wasn't wrong, he smelled roast chicken, and hopefully it was coming with all the trimmings.

He could hear muted voices coming from the kitchen so Dean headed there. It bothered him that they were talking in hushed tones, almost as if they didn't want him to hear what they were talking about. He felt that little spike of jealousy in the pit of his stomach again. He didn't like it that he couldn't scream that Sam belonged to him, not that he was into talking about his inner feelings or anything, but he'd noticed that Angel was almost as handsy as Sam was, and Dean was a possessive lover. It didn't matter that Dean knew that Sam wasn't in the least bit interested in Angel. He just didn't want them both getting touchy-feely with each other.

He lurked outside the door, hiding in the ancient shadows of the old house, and tried to hear what it was that they were talking about, but their voices were just too hushed for him to make the words out.

He wondered if maybe he should check the house out, but since he didn't like the idea of walking around the house uninvited, he entered the kitchen. Okay, so normally that didn't bother him to wander uninvited through people's homes, but he liked Angel, and they were there on a job anyway. They'd have plenty of time to check out the place after they'd eaten.

When he walked into the kitchen, Sam and Angel were huddled together at one side of the ancient table. They both looked at him as he walked in, and he suddenly felt like he was intruding.

"Angel's husband can't get home tonight. Apparently the weather has taken a turn for the worst and he can't get out of the city," Sam told him.

"Looks like it's going to get bad here too," Dean nodded, peering out of the window. "You have a garage or somewhere I can park the car? I hate leaving her out in this kind of weather."

"Sure," Angel told him, swallowing hard.

She'd been crying, even Dean could see that.

"If you pull around the back of the house, there are a couple of empty garages. You're more than welcome to use one of them." She stood up and after rooting around in a bowl on the table, she handed him a set of keys.

"Thanks," Dean said and went out into the hall to put on his coat and boots.

Sam must have followed him, because he was aware of a warm hand on his back as he opened the door. "She's really not okay, is she?"

Sam shook his head. "I'll tell you later. Don't be out there too long. I don't want a popsicle for a brother, though the licking could be fun."

Dean snorted and pulled the door closed behind him.

Sam stared at the snow that had fallen in through the open door. He'd had to fight the urge to pull Dean in and just kiss him until they couldn't breathe. But he wasn't going to pine and wait at the door, so he turned and went back into the warm kitchen.

She was pouring them both out another mug of coffee, with a spare mug set aside for Dean when he came back in.

"You're close, aren't you? You and Dean? Yet you never mentioned you had a brother when we were at Stanford. Why's that, do you think?" She asked, handing him a mug and pointing to the sugar and milk jug on the side.

Sam shrugged as he heaped sugar in and stirred, adding just enough milk to color the coffee. "I don't know. Didn't leave on the best of terms, I suppose. Dad told me that if I left, I wasn't to go back, and Dean never said anything so I figured he felt the same way as dad did."

"You were very wrong, huh? Anyone can see he's devoted to you," she said, enigmatically. "Even a blind man could see that."

Before Sam could ask what she meant, the door was flung open and a very cold Dean was mumbling and muttering about '_damn snow'_ and '_cold enough to freeze his nuts off out there_'. Sam just bit his lip while Angel couldn't stop a little giggle from escaping.

He stomped into the kitchen with a face like a five year old – an unhappy five year old. "Please tell me there's coffee?" he pleaded.

"There's coffee," Sam said, already pouring him a cupful. There fingers met and lingered when he passed him the cup, their eyes meeting in a wordless conversation.

Dean almost snatched his hand back when he realized. But he took the coffee and sighed heavily. The heat of the liquid in the china was warming his numb fingers, though, and he was grateful for that.

There was a heavy silence in the air as the three adults regarded each other.

Angel broke it. "I'll have dinner ready earlier than usual seeing as Robert can't make it home. I bet you're both starving, huh?"

They nodded in unison.

"Tell me about Robert, Angel. Like when did you meet him? He wasn't at college with us, was he?" Sam asked.

"No. I met him after Stanford. He was actually my boss when I started working for his firm. His dad had died suddenly and left him the business. He's an architect, and very good at it. Which was one of the reasons why I was surprised when he suggested we move in here after we got married. I'd always thought we'd live in one of the apartments he'd designed in the city. That's where he'll be tonight. We kept it because there are the odd times when he can't get home or whatever," Angel told them.

"Do you get along with his family?" Sam asked when she paused.

"Oh yes," Angel smiled. "His mom, Rosemary, is a lovely woman. I was happy when I realized that she didn't live too far away. My parents are still busy doing a state by state tour in dad's RV now they're retired, so I don't see them very often at all. If it wasn't for Rosemary, I'd be a bit lonely tucked away out here in the middle of nowhere."

She paused before carrying on. "Rosemary's been more like a mother to me than a mother-in-law. She wrote me out a little book with all of the recipes in for Robert's favorite meals… you know, stuff like that. I suppose some might consider her a little overbearing, but I kinda like it. Especially with my own parents never being around."

Sam smiled soothingly at her. His eyes darted to meet Dean's, who was watching every move Sam made. There was a slight frown which meant something was bothering him and it didn't take a genius to work out what. Dean didn't like anyone, especially women, getting too close to Sam. So he frowned back at him with a minute shake of his head.

"How about you, Sam? How've you been since you left Stanford? We were all shocked when we heard about the fire. Poor Jessica. I'm so sorry. She was always so lovely and happy and sunny. Seems so wrong that something like that would happen to someone as nice as her," she spoke quietly, her hand on top of Sam's. "They were so much in love," Angel shifted her eyes to meet Dean's before moving back to look at Sam. "Weren't you, Sam? You and Jessica, you'd have been together forever if it wasn't for that terrible tragedy."

Dean choked on his coffee, grimacing in Sam's direction. The sting of the hot liquid burnt all the way down his throat.

Sam's eyes had been on Dean's while Angel had been talking. "You okay there, Dean?" Sam got up and slapped his brother hard on the back, harder than necessary.

"I'm fine," Dean snapped, and Sam couldn't fail to notice the glare in Dean's eyes.

Sam sat back down beside Angel. "It was hard, at first. I won't lie. But it got easier with time. And it helped with keeping busy." He knew his answers were clipped and stilted but he couldn't exactly pour his heart out, or lie and say she was the biggest love of his life or anything. Yes, she'd been a warm body in his bed, been a great substitute for Dean those years they'd been apart. But he hadn't really considered _forever_ with her. Well, he had, but only because he thought he couldn't have that with Dean.

What he really wanted to do was reach out to Dean and reassure him. But he couldn't, not in front of Angel, but later… later when they were alone, he would.

"So, there's been no one else for you since Jessica, then?" Angel asked innocently, her eyes on Dean as if searching for some sort of reaction.

Sam shook his head, avoiding Dean's eyes. Later couldn't come soon enough.

Thick silence settled over the room again.

Dean tried hard not to stare at Sam from across the table, but it was hard. He could still taste bile in his mouth and he wasn't sure if it were from the choking or the mention of Jessica.

"Angel, why don't you tell us more about the things that have been happening to you since you moved in here. I'm guessing that's when things started happening from what you told me on the phone," Sam broke the silence this time.

Angel chewed on her bottom lip. The gesture made her look a lot younger than she was. "Yeah, that's about when everything _did_ start. The house has been in Robert's family for over a hundred years. His mom and dad lived here until his dad died suddenly, and then after we were married Rosemary gave us the house as a wedding gift. And I have to admit, I was thrilled when I came out to see it. I mean, it's huge. And my first thought was how candy box-like it was and how great it would be to raise children here…" her voice tailed off and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

"Did something happen?" Dean asked.

Angel nodded, reaching out for the box of tissues in the middle of the table. "We'd been here about six weeks when I miscarried. But I didn't even know I was pregnant." Two fat tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," Sam whispered quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her fragile back. Sam glanced over at Dean, noticing his brother's discomfort and unease about the subject. He loved Dean, truly he did, but he also knew him well enough to know that this kind of thing made Dean uncomfortable.

"I think it would've been worse if I'd known," she said sadly, wiping her eyes with an already crumpled paper tissue. "Robert was great though. He knew exactly what to do and say so that I wouldn't blame myself, and promised that once I was feeling better we'd work on getting pregnant again. But so far, all I've done is feel worse and get sicker. I'm tired all the time, but when I sleep I just have these nightmares and I wake up just as exhausted as when I go to sleep. I sometimes hallucinate when I'm so tired I can hardly stand. I was convinced there was a man in the house. I made Robert check every room one night and I still couldn't settle even when he proved to me there wasn't anyone here."

She paused again, looking at both brothers' faces. When she spoke again, her voice was so quiet they both had to strain to hear her.

"But there is someone else in the house, and I can prove it."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances as Angel stood and peeled off the thick woolen sweater she was wearing. Underneath she wore a short sleeved shirt, and visible on her arms were red scratches and dark bruises, and around her wrists were marks where some sort of restraint device had been used.

"Robert thinks they're just scratches and bruises from me doing stuff around the house. Which is funny because most of the time I'm too tired to do much more than cook the evening meal. And even then, sometimes Rosemary comes over and cooks it, if the weather's not too bad." She was pulling the sweater back on as she spoke.

"Angel, do you have any history of sleepwalking? It's just one thing to rule out," Sam asked as she sat back down beside him.

"I've never sleepwalked in my life," she answered him honestly. "And I haven't started since I moved in here. I'm not making this up and I'm not doing this to myself."

"Hey, hey," Sam soothed again. "Trust me, we both believe you. It's just sometimes better to rule out any natural causes before we start looking at the supernatural reasons."

"I'm sorry. I get a little tense when it starts getting dark. I didn't mean to snap at you," she sighed, dabbing her eyes dry again.

"It's fine," Dean said. "Has anyone else seen anything when they've been in the house? Smelt anything unusual, like rotten eggs or sulpher maybe?"

Angel shook her head. "No. No one else has seen anything. It's just me. I haven't smelt anything either. Though the drains did smell rather icky when we first moved in, but I thought that was more from not being used that anything else."

Sam smiled. "No, no. That's a good sign. Trust me, that is a good sign."

"I sometimes wonder if Rosemary's right in that the miscarriage affected me more than I want to admit," Angel sighed in a resigned manner. Then, with a deep inhale, she told them: "I should go see to dinner before it burns. There's plenty of beer in the fridge if you want to help yourselves."

Both Sam and Dean took the sudden change in topics as a hefty hint that Angel had talked as much as she could for the time being.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but it didn't stop either of them from enjoying the first proper home cooked meal they'd had in a long time. Sam noticed that Angel barely ate a morsel, just moved the food around her plate until he and Dean were finished.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:-**

After the rather uncomfortable dinner, Angel had announced that she was going to bed. She looked ready to drop where she stood, but she asked them to make themselves at home and to help themselves to anything they wanted.

Just before she went, she hugged Sam again and thanked him once more for coming.

"Should we check out the house tonight or head up to bed ourselves?" Sam asked once Angel had gone upstairs.

"Huh?" Dean raised his eyebrows distractedly.

"You wanna check out the house tonight?" Sam repeated, catching Dean's arm in his hand.

"What do you want to do?" Dean asked, pulling his arm away from Sam.

"Honestly?" Sam sighed, dropping his eyes down to where he was sliding his foot across the tiled floor. "Honestly, what I would like to do is go up to bed and suck you off…"

"We should go with that plan," Dean grinned, making a start for the staircase.

Sam chuckled and followed his brother up the two flights of creaking wooden stairs to the attic rooms. He was barely through the first door when Dean had the front of his shirt curled in his fists, pushing him back on to the first bed they came to… Sam's.

"I have a better plan," Dean mumbled in between the fervent kisses he was bestowing on Sam's neck. "I think I should just fuck you. Huh? You like that idea, Sammy?"

Sam's hips bucked up to meet Dean's pushing down, grinding their hard cocks together by way of an answer.

"Like that idea? Mmm, I know you do… always like that idea… like me fucking into you, hard and fast until you can't breathe…" Dean was rocking into the cradle Sam's spread thighs made while simultaneously trying to undress Sam without moving.

Sam had his big hands beneath the many layers Dean was wearing to keep warm. His long fingers spread to touch as much of his brother as he could, searching out the scars that were no longer there. Scars that had been taken away unbidden. Scars that had mapped out Dean's life accordingly. Some clean slate, when Sam longed for those scars because they were proof of life… proof that Dean had survived terrible things… But none of that mattered any more… not when Dean was stretched out above him… wanting him… needing him…

"Too many clothes…" Sam grunted out after a moment of tugging at the hems of Dean's various shirts. "Need to get… off…"

"Don't worry, Sammy… I'll get you off… always do…" Dean panted breathlessly, grinning lasciviously.

Sam snorted. "Dork." He pushed at Dean and tried to sit up. "You know, this would go a whole lot better without clothes."

Dean groaned at the loss of his brother's body flush and warm against his, but agreed, thankful of the fire that was blazing and warm enough to stop them from shivering from the rapidly cooling night air as they both undressed.

Watching from beneath darkened hooded lids, Dean's eyes stared lustfully at the long, lean lines of Sam's nakedness, trailing across the mass of muscle that defined his body, the scars he still bore from battles they'd won and lost. Acres of tanned skin that Dean wanted to lick and taste and savor until Sam was _all_ that he could taste.

Dean fell back onto the bed, having pulled back the covers. Sam slipped in beside him and Dean enveloped them both in the cotton-warmth, hands sliding over goose-bumped skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Sam parted his legs and hauled Dean's pliant body between them, fingertips digging into his brother's hips.

Two thick columns of heated flesh trapped between two hard bodies, thrusting against each other, seeking friction and finding it as the two men rutted helplessly against each other.

Dean grasped Sam's hair tight in his fist, pulling his head back and bit at the pulse in his neck, licking the tender place. Stubble scraped his tongue and made him want… _more…_

Sam gasped as Dean's teeth nipped his neck over and over. His hands roamed Dean's back, fingertips tracing the muscles as they moved and tensed beneath the layer of freckled skin, nails dragging and scratching as they sought purchase as he thrust against Dean's groin.

"I want you in me," Sam panted out, his face buried in the dampened crook of Dean's neck. He flicked his tongue along the length of Dean's collar bone before whispering again. "_Need_ you… _in_ me…"

Dean groaned, and if it were possible his cock would've hardened even more at the sheer huskiness of his brother's words. His breath came out long and slow as he fought for control of his body, teeth biting into his lip. He needed _stuff_ but that meant leaving Sam's body and he didn't – couldn't – force himself to move.

Sam wriggled beneath him, arm stretching up and over, reaching. Small bottle of slick clutched in his long fingers from God-knows where. Dean grabbed at it and moved enough to flick the lid, pour some of the clear gel on his fingers and reach between them. Stretching and opening Sam up was normally one of the best parts of foreplay and Dean would take forever to make sure Sam was more than ready – screaming – for him…

But not tonight.

The hunger they both felt for this outweighed the need to languorous foreplay.

Dean thrust two fingers into his tight hole, pushing the lube in and opening up, knowing the slight pain he caused Sam would be worthwhile in a few moments time. A third finger was added and Dean roughly stretched the opening, smearing the lube as much as he could before he quickly removed his fingers and sat back on his knees, watching Sam carefully to see if he'd hurt him more than necessary.

Sam's eyes were almost completely black as the pupils had blown so much and in the darkness of the room, they had an almost evil look to them. But Sam's face was flushed and damp and highlighted by the flickering flames from the fire that Dean felt his stomach contract with a fresh wave of desire.

"Dean…" Sam gasped, hand sliding down his own stomach to wrap around his cock, movement jerky as he jacked himself. "Oh fuck… Dean… want… _need you…_"

Dean nodded, knowing… needing… His eyes never leaving the sight of Sam with his big hand around his large cock as he stroked the velvety skin that surrounded the solid shaft. Dean flicked the lube lid a second time and coated his cock with more slick, then the bottle dropped onto the covers and was forgotten.

With his hand around his cock, Dean pushed the glans against Sam's ass, sliding easily into the tight heat. He grunted at the effort it took not slamming into him and thrusting with all his might. Rough was okay with Sammy, but not pain.

"Oh fuck," Sam bit out, panting from holding his breath while Dean pushed deep inside him. The feel of Dean's thick cock pushing into him was almost enough to make him come, he wouldn't even need his own cock to be touched at all.

Dean stilled himself, outstretched on his arms, looking down into Sam's eyes. He wondered if it were ever possible for someone to love anyone else as much as he loved Sam. Many times over, he'd shown Sam how much he loved him but rarely _told_ him. They didn't need it to be said in words, either of them. This was how they told each other…

"Dean…" Sam growled. "Move… Need you… to move…"

Dean dipped his head, elbows bending, and nipped at Sam's lip. 'I move now… and I'll come…" he gasped.

Sam answered by digging his hands into Dean's hips, fingertips biting into the flesh as he ground his own hips up and into Dean's, thrusting against his brother's cock buried deep inside his ass. His own cock, trapped between them, painted ribbons of pre-come along the grooves and Dean's stomach.

"Sammy…" the name trembled from Dean's lips like a plea, but he began thrusting into Sam, slow and deep and steady.

It took less than a dozen thrusts for Sam to come, untouched, between them. Hot splashes sticking their bodies together.

It took less than half a dozen more thrusts for Dean to come… hard. White lights flashing behind his tightly shut eyelids.

No words. No declarations. Just touching, tender caressing, as they collapsed against each other. Satiated… exhausted… unable to move until they both caught their breaths.

Dean curled around Sam's body, arm draped languidly around his waist with his hand on his chest, and his nose buried in Sam's sweat-dampened neck. He could feel Sam's heart still beating erratically under his palm and he loved that he was the one that did that to his brother… that he was the one who could touch his brother this way…

"You don't have to worry about what Angel said," Sam's voice was barely a whisper in the silent room.

"What's that?" Dean whispered back.

"What Angel said about me and Jessica."

_Oh… That…_

"She didn't know me that well, and she was a friend of Becky's, not mine. She just saw what she saw, what everyone saw… what I wanted everyone to see," Sam sighed softly, covering Dean's hand on his chest with his own.

Dean stayed silent. He brushed his lips across Sam's shoulder blade and waited…

"I don't know how to describe it. I wasn't _that _into her, but I needed someone, you know? I needed someone to fill the holes. And she was so unlike you. If she'd been more like you I wouldn't have been able to sleep with her," Sam explained.

"More like me?"

"A man. Male. Hard… muscled… Someone who I wouldn't have to be careful with…" Sam struggled with the words, trying not to sound too girlie about the whole thing.

"Don't have to treat me like I'm fragile?" Dean mumbled, peppering kisses along the width of Sam's neck and shoulders. "Don't have to worry about breaking me, right?"

"Right," Sam sighed, relaxing back against Dean's chest. "You know you gotta go get back in your own bed soon, don't ya?"

"Yeah," Dean huffed. "But not yet, huh? Just wanna hold you a bit longer."

It still amused Sam that it was Dean who liked these moments, these moments afterwards when they're still blissed out from fucking and too exhausted to move. It amused Sam that Dean was the secret cuddler out of the pair of them.

They lay there, drifting between satiated bliss and the pull of sleep, for what felt like hours. Arms and legs entwined. Bodies pressed so close together they could have been one person not two. Breaths matched, deep and even.

The only thing that broke the peace was the far-off screams of some girl invading their dreams.

Except they weren't dreaming.

Stumbling out of Sam's bed, they grabbed their pants off the floor, dressed as quickly as possible and followed the screaming to Angel's room on the first floor.

Sam banged on the door, "Angel? Angel?"

When there was no reply, Sam went for the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was dark but they could clearly see Angel writhing on the bed, back arching up off the mattress, arms and legs flailing against some unseen assailant.

Sam rushed to one side of the bed, and Dean to the other.

"Grab her arms while I try and wake her," Sam told his brother. "Angel, Angel? Wake up… you're having a nightmare…" Sam shook her while Dean held her wrists tightly.

Angel, still locked in her nightmare, fought against Dean's hands, twisting herself almost all the way over in a bid to get out of his grasp.

"Sam, slap her or something," Dean demanded, trying to keep hold of the small woman as she flailed against his grip.

"I'm not slapping her, Dean. She's having a nightmare," Sam frowned. But he didn't know what else to do. He knelt on the side of the bed and tapped her cheek lightly, calling out her name again.

Angel screamed. Her eyes flickered open and she gasped, sucking in air like she had been suffocated.

"Oh shit," Dean recoiled, letting go of her wrists and stepped back from the bed.

"Angel? It's Sam. You were having a nightmare," Sam soothed, keeping his voice soft so as not to scare her anymore than she already was.

"Sam?" Angel's voice was weak in the dark room, and she sounded exhausted.

"Yeah, I'm here. You were screaming and thrashing about. Do you remember any of it?" Sam knelt by the bed and stroked her damp hair away from her eyes.

"It was just more of the same. The same man, chasing me through the woods at the back of the house. He caught me and threw me onto the floor… his hand around my neck… squeezing… thought I was going to die…" Her eyes darted around the room as she searched the corners and shadows for the man who haunted her nightmares.

"There was no one here, I promise you," Sam said quietly. It's just me and Dean."

Angel nodded, sinking back into the pillows. 'Do you think you could get me a glass of water, please?"

Dean nodded, "I'll go get it."

When he'd gone, Angel leaned across the bed and switched the bedside light on and a soft glow lit the room.

It was the first time Sam had seen the inside of the room. The four-poster bed she lay on seemed to dominate it, the dark heavy curtains pulled back with cords. She looked like a doll lay on the huge bed, huge-eyed and pale-faced, scared and haunted.

But what worried Sam more was the darkening band of purple that stretched around her neck. Ghosts could inflict some serious damage if they were angry enough and it looked like this one had a severe grudge against Angel. They needed to get to the bottom of this and quickly before the ghost hurt her even more, or at worst, killed her.

"I feel so weak and pathetic," Angel sighed heavily. "And I hate it. I hate it."

"Don't," Sam emphasized quietly. "Don't blame yourself. This is something beyond your control and you have no right to blame yourself for that…"

"Will you stay with me for the rest of the night? I don't want to be alone again tonight," she asked, biting her bottom lip as she waited for his answer.

Sam nodded. He'd already made up his mind that he'd be camping out in her bedroom for the rest of the night. There was a chaise lounge against the wall that looked comfortable enough for him to nap on, as he highly doubted he'd actually sleep. "Of course I'll stay."

Angel nodded, eyes flicking to the door when a floor board just outside the room squeaked. Sam jumped to his feet, ready…

The door creaked open and Dean came into the room, glass of water in one hand and his trusty EMF reader he had made from the old Walkman dad had given him one birthday a long time ago.

"There you go." Dean set the glass down on the bedside table.

"Thank you." Angel shuffled up in bed until she was sitting, then she reached out and picked up the glass.

"I'm just going to have a word with Dean and then I'll be right back," Sam told her, his hand on her thigh through the thick eiderdown. She nodded and they both left the room, pulling the bedroom door shut behind them.

"Is she okay?" Dean whispered, inclining his head towards the room.

Sam shook his head. "Hell no. She has actual bruises around her neck from where someone or something tried to strangle her. This ghost has something personal against Angel and we need to stop it."

Dean grimaced, brows drawn together in a frown. His fingers danced over the EMF in his hand. "Poor kid. She looks half scared to death."

"I'm gonna stay with her for the rest of the night. You gonna be okay?" Sam asked, his voice laced with concern, eyes worried.

"Dude," Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna take a look around the house. I'll be quiet. She won't even know I'm here."

Sam leaned in a brushed a kiss against Dean's lips. "Just be careful, please. I know you think I'm just a great big girl," he paused and rolled his eyes, "but just be careful until we know exactly what kind of haunting we have here."

Dean let out a soft snort, but his eyes said more than words ever could. "I'll be careful." He leaned into his brother, touched their foreheads together, hand barely touching the stubbled cheek it held. Then with a brief brush of his lips against Sam's, he turned and headed back down the stairs.

Sam let himself back into Angel's bedroom and noticed that she had dropped a pillow and a couple of blankets onto the chaise for him. He settled himself down and told her to get some sleep.

"Thanks, Sam," she whispered, switching off the lamp and laying back on the pillows, closing her eyes against the darkness.

"Don't thank me yet," he said more to himself than to her. He had a feeling things were going to get a hell of a lot worse before they got better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:-**

"Did you manage to get any sleep at all?" Sam asked when Dean appeared in the kitchen at the exact moment the coffee machine dinged to say it was done. Sam smiled to himself, thinking for the millionth time that coffee was the best alarm clock when it came to getting Dean up – well second to a blow job, anyway. The smell of fresh coffee was like a siren's lure to Dean.

"Some. Not much," he gave a wry smile as he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. The large mug in front of him captured his attention and he blinked at the black liquid inside. "You?"

"Not much, no." Sam leaned back against the sink and took a long swallow of his own cooler coffee. "I don't sleep so well on my own anymore," he admitted quietly.

Dean looked up from his drink and gave Sam a slightly more enthusiastic smile than he had earlier. He didn't even need to tell Sam that it was the same for him. The heat of Sam's body pressed against his own was always enough to settle him. He got up from the stool and stalked across the tiled floor to where Sam still leaned. It was weird how easily he fit between Sam's long legs so that he could grind their hips together. Their lips were so close that Dean shivered when he felt Sam's hot, coffee-fragrant breath flittering across his own in a barely-there brush of lips. "I could point out that you weren't alone, but I won't," he smirked, cocking his eyebrow. "Angel get much more sleep?"

"Yeah. She was still restless but no more nightmares. She was in the shower when I came down," Sam explained, dropping his hands on Dean's hips, thumbs sliding under the belted waistband of his jeans to skim the still bed-warmed skin. "She could be down any minute… you shouldn't… we shouldn't…"

"I know." Dean's voice hummed almost as much as his body did. "Just… yeah…" And they melted into each other, lips gently moving against lips, tongues seeking and pushing…

Sam pulled away, eyes searching his brother's for something, though he wasn't quite sure what…

Quiet footsteps on the stairs had them both jumping to opposite sides of the kitchen. Sam was sure that they both looked guilty as hell when Angel walked wearily into the room. Her eyes were dark, sunken and sad, lost in the deathly white pallor of her skin. She looked like a living ghost.

She glanced at them both, staring back at her, as she crossed the room towards the coffee machine. "Thank goodness," she sighed as she poured herself a cup and sat down at the kitchen table. "Looks like you two had as good a night as I did."

Dean coughed, flicking his downcast eyes in Sam's direction. Sam gave an almost invisible nod and sat down at the table beside Angel. Dean took a seat beside Sam, sipping his own, cooling, coffee.

"I don't think any of us got a good night's sleep last night," Sam said quietly.

"Maybe it would help you sleep better if I told you I found no supernatural cause for all of this when I checked out the house last night," Dean nodded.

Sam twisted around in the chair. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," Dean nodded again. "There were no EMF readings. No markings scratched into the woodwork or walls. No hexbags. No traces of sulpher. I'm telling you, I could find nothing supernatural at all in this house. I checked each room thoroughly… well, except your bedroom, which, if it's okay with you, I'll do right after breakfast."

"There was nothing?" Sam and Angel spoke together.

"Nada. Zip. Zilch." Dean shrugged. "There was something, though… nothing supernatural. But there's an old – well, I'd guess it's called a solarium out back. It's been used recently…"

"That's Rosemary's room," Angel interrupted. "It was originally Robert's grandmother's solarium. She fancied herself a bit of an herbalist, and she'd often concoct potions and medicines in there for the locals' way back when. Since she died, I guess Rosemary took over that role."

"Have you been in there?" Sam asked her when she paused.

"I took a look around when we first moved in, but Rosemary made it clear that she still considered it _her _room, and honestly? I wasn't that interested," she explained. "Mind you, the old recipe books look interesting. I wouldn't have minded having a look at those sometime. I believe some of them are Robert's great, great grandmother's, and they must be pretty collectible by now if they haven't fallen apart."

Her voice tailed off and she was pressing her hand against her forehead. A thin sheen of perspiration shimmered on the pale skin, and she looked as though she was going to pass out.

"Angel? You okay?" Sam had turned back to face Angel while she'd been talking, and he reached out to her.

Her eyes rolled slightly before she nodded. "I'm okay. I'll feel better once I've had my tonic…"

"Tonic?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Angel frowned. "Rosemary makes it for me. It's got stuff in it that supposed to help me feel better. She started giving it to me when I complained about feeling rundown and tired all the time."

"Do you know exactly what's in the tonic, Angel?" Sam clasped her hand between his and caught her eye.

"Well… no… I don't. I know she makes it in the solarium here. It does perk me up a little… but it also makes me a little nauseous too."

Sam passed a quick glance at his brother, who was sat with his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Do you have it handy?" Dean asked. "The tonic, I mean. Do you have a bottle or whatever handy?"

"Why?" Angel bit her lip. "Do you think Rosemary would put something in the tonic? She's not like that, guys. She's a really nice woman, you know… She's taken me under her wing and really looked after me while we've been living out here, stuck with all this snow… No, I cannot believe she would do anything that would harm me…"

Her voice had risen until she was almost shouting.

Sam caught her flailing hands in his own, larger, ones. "Calm down, Angel… Just calm down please. We're not saying anything. We both just think it would be wise to check everything out… every possibility. I never said Rosemary was anything but nice to you."

"I know… I'm sorry…" Angel huffed out. Tears glistened in the corners of her dark eyes. "I'm just so… exhausted…"

"I know, I know," Sam soothed.

"The tonic is out on the side. It's in a stoneware bottle with a corked stopper," she paused, and then stood up. "I'll just get it for you." And she pushed away from Sam, and the table, and walked into the main part of the kitchen. "I need to take it anyway."

When she came back, she handed Sam the bottle. "I'm going to go out for a walk. I feel like I need some fresh air, and I want to check on Mr. and Mrs. Medford too," she explained.

"Do you think that's wise?" Sam asked.

"It might be good for her to get out of this place for a while, Sammy," Dean interrupted. "She's not going far. It's not far, is it?"

"No, just at the end of the driveway and across the yard really. A ten minute walk each way in this snow," she smiled. "I'll be fine. I just need to blow some cobwebs away."

"Are the phones back on?" Dean asked, already walking over to the hallway door to check the phone there.

"I doubt it. But cell reception is usually more reliable," Angel told his back as he disappeared out the room.

"Call us on the cell if you need one of us to walk back with you," Sam told her as they both joined Dean in the hallway.

"The phones are still down," Dean told them, shrugging.

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored him, following Angel to the closet and helping her on with her coat. "You should eat something before you head out," he told her as she pulled on her hat and mittens.

"I'll have something with the Medford's. Mrs. Medford thinks I'm wasting away and likes to feed me up every opportunity she gets," Angel told him at the door. "I'll be gone most of the morning, so make yourselves at home."

"Just be careful…" Sam called after her. "And don't forget to call my cell if you need us…"

"The cells work?" Dean muttered. He'd left it in his room and not bothered with it, assuming that if the main lines were down, the cells wouldn't work either.

Sam shut the door against the freezing morning air and pushed into Dean as he walked back towards the kitchen.

Dean reached out and caught Sam's hoodie in his fist, slamming him against the wall. "Coulda told me the cell's were working, bitch."

Sam smirked. "Yeah… but that would have been too easy." He paused. "Jerk."

Dean pressed his lips against Sam's in a brief but no less meaningful kiss. "So… what we gonna do now?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, I don't know about you but I want to take a closer look at that tonic," Sam said, making no effort to extricate himself from Dean's clutches.

"All work and no play makes Sammy a dull boy," Dean teased. The tip of his tongue slid out from between his lips and curled around Sam's earlobe.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We _are_ here to _work_, you know… Helping Angel and all that."

"I know… I know… I just want a little Sammy-taste to keep me going," Dean smirked, and quickly kissed Sam again.

Sam groaned into the kiss, with Dean swallowing it down as eagerly as he kissed. It briefly crossed his mind if there would ever be a point in their lives when they could sit back and say that they had finally got enough of each other… then the thought was gone as quickly as it came because it was unlikely to happen so there was no point wasting time on it.

The kiss ended and the boys parted. "Let's go check out this evil potion before we… I… get carried away again," Dean muttered shakily, breathlessly.

Sam nodded, and they moved together, walking back into the warmth of the kitchen.

The tonic bottle was non-descript, not even labeled. Sam pulled the wired cork out of the bottle and sniffed. He pulled a face as the smell hit his nose.

"It don't smell nice, then?" Dean snorfled.

"Nope," Sam screwed his face up again. He leaned over and plucked a clean glass from the draining board and poured a little of the liquid into it. It was black, thick and looked disgusting. Neither of them placed bets on the fact that it would taste as bad as it looked and smelled.

Sam tipped the glass at Dean. "Urgh, no, I don't think so. Your turn to taste-test this one," he shuddered, backing away slowly, hands raised and waving out a resounding 'no'.

Poking his finger into the black sludge-like mixture, Sam bought it to his lips and flicked his fingertip with the end of his tongue. His face soured and he spat in the direction of the sink.

Dean chuckled. "So, we know it doesn't taste better than it smells now. Can you tell what's in it?"

Sam shook his head. "There's nothing in there I ever want to taste again, I can tell you that much. Other than that, no idea." He set the glass down on the counter and stared at it. "You remember when we were little and whenever we got sick, Dad would always tell us the medicine tastes bad because that's how it makes us better?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Yeah. I used to think he picked the most foulest one he could find as punishment for getting sick in the first place."

"Well, this could just be an innocent tonic…" Sam started.

"Or it could be that the mother-in-law is not quite as nice as she makes out," Dean finished.

"Bobby," Sam butted in. "We could call Bobby and ask him if he knows anyone local who could get this tested."

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Call him, ask him, see what he says about it."

"What're you gonna do?" Sam frowned.

Dean smirked. "I'm gonna go check on my baby, work the engine over for a while and make sure she's okay."

Sam rolled his eyes, nodding. "Fine. Just wrap up and don't stay out there too long."

Dean leaned into Sam and brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. "Yes dear and maybe you could get breakfast going at some point. I'm starving."

Sam's only answer was to roll his eyes at Dean… again. He pulled his cell phone out of jeans pocket and started scrolling through for Bobby's number.

"_This had better be important," _Bobby's voice growled in Sam's ear.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam smirked at Bobby's regular gruff greeting. "We're working a job and I needed to run something by you."

"_Hurry up, then. I ain't got all day."_

Sam quickly filled Bobby in with the details and finished by asking if he knew anyone in the area who'd be able to test the tonic for them.

"_Give me a couple of hours and I'll try and track someone down for ya. I used to know a coupla hunter brothers in that area from a while back," _Bobby told him. _"I hear the weather in Massachusetts sucks right about now, huh?"_

Sam chuckled, and informed him that they were knee deep in snow but at least it had stopped for now.

"_Listen, I'll get back to as soon as I can, 'kay? You boys make sure to wrap up warm, and stay out of trouble." _Bobby hung up without waiting for a reply.

The call was quick and short, and Sam stuffed the cell back in his pocket.

Breakfast next.

He opened the fridge and peered at the contents until bacon and a carton of eggs registered with him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:-**

They'd just finished washing the breakfast dishes out when they heard the back door open and close, and felt the flurry of cold air rush into the room, chilling them quickly and thoroughly.

Angel stood in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen, cheeks pinkened by the cold air, giving her an almost healthy glow though she was still pale underneath. She was smiling and looked much better than she had a couple of hours ago.

"Hey," Sam said, helping her with her coat and moving her to sit by the fire. "Good walk?"

"You wouldn't believe how good I feel just for getting out of here for a while," she continued to smile. "Plus, Mrs. Medford made proper English-style porridge. Apparently it's guaranteed to stick to your ribs like glue… or so Mr. Medford informed me." She laughed softly, eyes bright and cheeks still flushed.

She looked pretty, and that's how Sam remembered her from their Stanford days.

"Did you find anything for breakfast?" she asked them, holding her hands out to the fire to warm them through.

"Sure did," Dean grinned, winking at Sam.

"Good. Well, if you two don't mind, I'm going to sneak off and call my husband and see if there's any chance he'll be able to make it home today." She got up from the chair. "And I might even go out again this afternoon. I'll see how I feel after lunch."

When she'd gone, Sam flashed Dean a warning look. "Dude, you have got to cool it with the winking and the innuendos and kissing and stuff…"

Dean just shook his head and sniggered. "Relax, Sammy. Angel is too wrapped up in her own problems to notice anything going on between us… and you know that." He crossed the room and draped his arm across Sam's shoulders. "You'll give us away with the constant guilty looks."

Sam nodded, knowing Dean was right. They didn't normally have to worry about anyone finding out about them, they'd long since given up pretending they were brothers to outsiders. People had always mistaken them as a gay couple, so why not play along with it? Only trouble was that Angel did know they were brothers and not too many people were okay with the idea of related people shacking up together, even less so when said relatives were brothers. And Sam knew had a natural talent for emo-angst without even trying.

"Hey," Dean said, distracting Sam from his current train of thought. "Heard back from Bobby yet?"

Sam shook his head, but pulled his cell phone to check anyway. "Not a word. Mind you, he did sound kinda busy when I called."

"Bobby always sounds busy," Dean agreed. "He'll call when he has something."

"Yeah," Sam said distractedly. "You know, I can't get it out of my head that if there's nothing supernatural in this house that's making Angel so sick, then the obvious cause is human. So that would imply that it's one of four people: her husband, Robert; her mother-in-law, Rosemary; or the Medford's."

"Well, she came back from the Medford's this morning looking like she'd spent a week relaxing on a beach somewhere…" Dean acknowledged.

"I know. I doubt it's them. I can't imagine they'd have much to gain from making her this sick," Sam puzzled. "It'd have to be either Robert of Rosemary. Which one would have the most to gain from… from…"

"Killing her?" Dean supplied when it was obvious Sam couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud.

"Yeah," Sam sighed the word out slowly. "I liked this better when this all seemed to be a supernatural cause."

"Yeah `cause I can never say this enough… Demons I get. People are crazy," Dean nodded vehemently.

Sam gave a wry tight-lipped smile. "So that, by default, leaves Robert and Rosemary. And we don't know either personally, but my best guess would be Rosemary."

"If I had to bet on it, I'd go with Rosemary. She's around more than the husband, and her thing with the solarium… making up lotions and potions and God knows whatever else…"

Sam nodded, agreeing. "After lunch, I'm gonna check that room out, see if I can't remember some of the botany Dad taught us."

"You remember that crap?" Dean grumbled. He'd hardly ever paid attention to Dad's lessons… that had been Sam's job, he thought, smirking to himself.

"I paid attention to the fact that some plants can kill you, yes. That they might look all innocent and shit, but one leaf could have the ability to knock you flat on your ass," Sam snickered at the memory of Dad giving them both a dose of Curare and then laughing as both boys bodies went limp from the reaction to anesthetizing properties of the plant. Thankfully, Dad had also seen fit to teach them about counter-reactions, and which plants could heal instead of harm.

"Yeah… well…" Dean did his best to look contrite. "Is it lunchtime yet?" he asked, and appropriate growl from his stomach accompanied the words.

~ O ~

After a light lunch of tuna sandwiches and potato chips, Angel wrapped herself up once again and set off to hike across the snow covered fields to her mother-in-law's home.

There was still no word from Bobby and Sam debating calling him again, but declined when he remembered the last time he'd gotten impatient waiting for information and Bobby had just about bitten his ear off through the phone.

So, instead, Dean took Sam to the solarium that ran along the side of the kitchen. You'd miss it if you weren't deliberately looking for it. It was small and tucked tidily away out of sight of the main house. Perfect for what it was being used for.

One side was almost like a small greenhouse. The wall was made from glass sheeting, and shelves lined the wall. Earthenware pots spaced evenly along them, plants at varying stages of growth… none of them named or labeled.

In the middle of the room stood a long marble table scattered with all sorts of things, from vials and bottles and jars, to different sized pestle and mortar combinations and what looked a lot like a coffee bean grinder. A hand-written notebook lay to one side of the table. It looked old and well used, the binding tattered and partly torn. Sam raised the front cover and saw row upon row of neat writing, faded to an almost sepia color only slightly darker than the ancient paper itself. There was a detailed, intricate drawing above it, highlighting the part of the plant to be used in the recipe.

On the opposite wall was a large cabinet, or rather the cabinet was the wall, so to speak. Every inch of the wall was lined with drawers and glass-fronted cupboards. Each filled with various dried roots, leaves and seeds. One cupboard was full of more notebooks, recipe books and even ancient herbal text books that had seen better days.

"You know what?" Dean announced, looking around the room again. Without waiting for Sam's reply, he carried on: "This room reminds me of that Practical Magic film with Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman… Man, all the way through I thought those two were gonna get it on…"

"Dean," Sam chided sharply. But he had to admit, that's what the room had reminded him of too. But without the porny bits thrown in. Though Sandra Bullock was hot in that film, he conceded.

"What?" Dean rolled his head on his shoulders, but managed to look suitably guilty. "I'm just saying… two hot chicks… and they were sisters, you know… and we're brothers…" He winked, wiggling his brows suggestively.

"I know what you were saying. Now shut up," Sam snapped, snarkier than he meant to sound. But seriously, sometimes… his brother…

"So, huh… you recognize any of these plants?" Dean swiftly and smartly changed the subject.

"Some. Most, I guess. I bet there's a plant book around here that'll identify the ones I don't know." His fingers ran along the spines, his eyes tracking the words written on them.

Dean's eyes lingered on the delicateness of Sam's fingers. Long, thin with only the bumps of his knuckles dividing them. Fingers that make Dean melt with wanting. He wondered, momentarily, if he had always wanted Sam like this… or if it was something that happened gradually along the road that mapped out their broken lives. He wondered, sometimes, if Sam had any idea of just how much he really meant to Dean. And often, Dean just wondered…

Sam pulled a book off the shelf at the exact moment his cell phone started playing some song by some band Sam liked but Dean couldn't remember the name of.

Sam had the phone at his ear and relayed everything to Dean. "It's Bobby… laptop… meet us on the webcam…" Sam shrugged along with Dean at that request. "Got something to tell us… ten minutes…"

A few minutes later, they were sitting on Sam's bed, laptop booting up, and the filched plant book on the small desk under the bedroom window. Dean was trying to convince Sam that they had time to '_at least kiss if nothing else'_ while they waited for the laptop, and Bobby…

…But then Bobby's voice had them flying apart…

"Oh fer the devil's sake…" Bobby's voice drifted out of the laptop, tiny but no less gruff than normal. "If I wanted gay porn – which I don't – I'd chose my own."

"It's good to see you too, Bobby… and yeah, why the webcam?" Dean snarked good-naturedly, even if a little sarcastically.

"Haven't seen you boys in months. Half wondered if you were still alive," Bobby scolded, hinting that a simple phone call every now and again would be kinda nice.

"Sorry, Bobby. We've been kinda busy lately," Sam explained, his tone suitably serious.

"Well, good fer you. Food other than tongue sandwiches is useful, you know. And before ya start, I don't care what you boys do, just so long as you don't do it in my face," Bobby gave them a smirk… at least it looked like a smirk but it was hard to see beneath the beard.

"So, what've you got for us," Sam asked, hoping Bobby would let the other subject slide.

"Okay. I got a hunter buddy out that way whose brother works in the big hospital in town. As a favor to me, he'd test the whatever it was. Only trouble you boys'll have is trying to get into town in this snow you got up there. He told me the smaller roads are mostly blocked and even the main roads are packed."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He bit his lip while he thought.

"He said you can drop a sample of the stuff when the roads are clear, which should be just a couple more days."

"Thanks, Bobby. That's great. I just hope whatever's going on doesn't get worse before then," Sam explained.

"This girl in danger then?" Bobby asked, frowning.

"I think so. Dean couldn't find a supernatural cause for what's happening to her, so the only other explanation is human."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you're both there. Listen boys, a heads up now and then wouldn't kill either of ya," Bobby growled gruffly, all bluff and no bite.

"Yeah, thanks. We'll stay in touch," Dean promised.

"Huh… Where are you both?" Bobby puzzled, peering into the webcam and making his face distorted at the other end.

"Massachusetts. Thought I'd mentioned that," Sam frowned.

"Ya eejit. Where abouts are you _exactly_?" Bobby growled.

"In Angel's house, on Sam's bed," Dean answered, eyebrows arched and eyes wide.

"Both of ya, move so I can see that headboard better," he demanded.

Sam and Dean crawled off the bed, giving each other disbelieving looks as they did.

"Right, ya can get back on now," Bobby's disembodied voice growled from the back of the laptop.

"You like the headboard?" Dean asked, completely perplexed at Bobby's interest.

"I've seen those markings before, but I can't seem to recall where… or why… Anyways, I got stuff to do, so I'll be seeing you two… soon?" He dipped his head questioningly.

"Sure. We might be passing your way sometime soon. Never know where the next job's gonna happen," Sam told him.

"You two take care," Bobby said, by way of a goodbye.

The webcam screen went blank, leaving Sam and Dean to pass baffled looks between them.

"All righty, then," Dean chuckled, pushing Sam back down onto the bed and all but crawling on top of him. "Make out time."

Sam snorted. The last few minutes had been interesting, but now he just kinda wanted to check out what plants he did – or didn't – recognize from the still room, and work out whether or not Rosemary was deliberately or accidentally poisoning her daughter-in-law. He only realized he'd said it all aloud when Dean pouted.

"But Sammy, I wanna make out now," Dean whined, sounding like a five year old begging to go to McDonald's for a Happy Meal.

"While I have the laptop already booted up, I may as well collaborate the information and look up the plants and their uses," Sam told him.

"Why did I have to go and fall for Geekboy?" Dean mused, kissing Sam anyway, linking their fingers together above their heads.

Sam smiled against Dean's lips, hands trailing along Dean's back until they reached his butt. He gave a sharp squeeze, and then slapped hard.

"What'cha do that for?" Dean grunted, but making no move to get off Sam.

"Because you can't stop at a kiss, and Angel could get back at any time… and I don't wanna get caught with pants around my ankles and your cock buried in my ass. `Cause that'd take some explaining, 'kay?" Sam grinned, cheeks flushing a soft pink and his eyes sparkling.

Dean snorted loudly. He hoisted himself reluctantly off of Sam and adjusted the crotch of his jeans. His hard cock bulged obscenely against the zipper, giving him a salacious look. His fingers, though, were still linked with Sam's.

"Okay. Okay. Well, while you're being all hot and sexy and studying, I'll be downstairs fixing myself a snack," Dean huffed, without any real heat in his sharp words. Then softer, he said: "You want I fix you something too?"

Sam nodded, smiling, thumb tracing a lazy circle across the back of Dean's hand. The touch sensual, light, but hot and seductive at the same time.

"I'll bring you a soda and a sandwich, then," and with that, he pulled away from Sam and went downstairs.

Sam grabbed the book from the floor and opened it at the beginning and flicked through, looking for the plants he recognized straight off. Most of the ones in the solarium appeared to of the poisonous variety and Sam had a very sick feeling about letting Angel take the tonic that same morning.

He rolled off the bed and lunged towards his messenger bag, fumbling through it for a pad and a pen so that he could make some notes. He didn't like this at all, and he was starting to believe what Dean always said about people being more crazy that demons. In this case, it seems he was right.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:-**

Dean leaned against the door jamb, drinking in the sight of his brother's stretched out body sprawled across the bed, still so engrossed in the research. He couldn't tear his eyes away from where Sam chewed on the end of his pen – a habit left over from his childhood days – and occasionally scribbled notes on the pad by his elbow. His face was illuminated by the soft blue glow from the laptop and only broken by the lines of text that filled the screen. Pure concentration made him look even more beautiful than usual, and it took Dean's breath away.

Dean stared at the deep furrows that creased Sam's forehead. Sometimes Sam took things too seriously… or was it Dean that didn't take them seriously enough? God knows they had enough proof that there were times they needed to take things seriously, but Dean had always known that Sam would carry the heavier load, even if Dean hadn't wanted that for his brother.

It just wasn't possible for him to fall any further in love with Sammy than he already was, was it?

Damn it… He needed to touch him… To reach out and feel Sam's chest rising and falling beneath his hand… To feel his body fucked out and satiated beneath his…

"Hey," Sam said quietly, noticing Dean standing in the doorway.

"Hey," Dean answered voice husky and raw as he stalked across the bedroom floor.

"So, I think I've managed to name several of the plants from downstairs…" Sam started, but stopped when Dean didn't seem to acknowledge him.

Dean took the laptop and moved it safely to the floor and then started moving the books, too. He reached out and curled his fingers around the pen Sam was still chewing on, letting his thumb graze his brother's lower lip before sliding the pen away and dropping it on the floor… it rolled under the bed and was forgotten about as Dean stalked the length of Sam's reclining body.

Sam welcomed the distraction as the heated weight of Dean's body covered his own. He could already feel the outline of Dean's hard cock pressing against him through the layers of worn denim. After a couple of hours of deciphering handwriting worse than his own, Sam needed this… needed to feel the hard press of Dean against him, though preferably with less clothes and more naked skin…

"Don't worry, Sammy… I'm gonna give you stress relief like you never got in college…" Dean panted, working Sam's belt loose and his jeans open. "Gonna take your mind off studying…"

"I gotta tell you, some of those recipes are bizarre…" Sam panted, fingers working their way beneath the layers Dean wore to keep warm. Bare skin greeted his fingertips and he stroked, teased and tormented until Dean shivered.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, licking a stripe from Sam's ear to his clavicle. He couldn't get enough of the taste of Sam. One little lick and he wanted more. "Tell me."

"G'uh…" Sam grunted, as Dean's fingers worked their way inside his pants and boxers to wrap around his own aching erection. Long, smooth, firm strokes… Sam was lucky he could remember his name, let alone what he'd been about to tell Dean…

"Talk to me, Sammy… Tell me…"

Dean's voice was honey-thick, whiskey-raw, and pure sex, as it washed over Sam. He struggled to bring the words back, remember the things he'd found out. "Love spells… potions to make the object of your desires fall totally in love with you… but dark stuff… not peaches and cream kinda stuff…"

Okay, with Dean's mouth making jello out of him, it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on forming actual sentences.

"Yeah?" Dean growled in Sam's ear, biting the lobe hard before sucking the tender area into his mouth and laving it with the tip of his tongue. "How dark?"

"U'rgh…" Sam grunted, fingers digging into Dean's bicep. "Dark… like sacrificing small animals… ravens, bluebirds… an animal apropos to the spell… most of them needed a blood sacrifice of some kind…"

Sam's last words were muffled as Dean worked off his shirts, yanking them over his head after giving up on the buttons.

"God, Sammy… Love when you talk geeky to me…" Dean chuckled, pushing Sam's pants down as far as he could without moving. "Turns me on so bad…"

Sam rolled his eyes, smirking. He tugged at the hem of Dean's multiple shirts until Dean sighed and pushed off Sam so they could undress properly. Then it was tanned flesh against pale freckled skin, pushing, panting, stroking, teasing, until one was ready for the other.

The sex was slow, tender, affectionate… something that didn't happen as often as the rough and ready sex they usually indulged in.

~ O ~

"Think we have time to shower before Angel gets back?" Dean sighed, lying back in the tangle of covers on Sam's bed, naked and exhausted, body shimmering with a fresh sheen of sweat that glittered like diamonds.

"Maybe… as long as we don't shower together," Sam grinned, lying against the side of Dean. He was fascinated watching the pulse flicker beneath the skin at the side of his brother's neck. He ran the pad of his thumb across the pulse, letting the _quickquickquick_ throb beat out its tattoo.

"But where's the fun in that? And we'll be saving water, and…" Dean shifted so he lay on his side, pulling Sam flush against him, lips grazing lazily against each other's.

"Dean…" Sam snorted. "I'm not gonna give you a blow job after that. I'm exhausted and so are you. Just go shower and I'll air the stink of sex out of this room."

"Sex doesn't stink," Dean nodded, trying to look serious and failing. "It's a rush of pheromones and adrenaline… I like the smell of sex… especially our sex…"

"That explains a lot. Go shower, `cause you _do_ stink. And I have your come in my ass so I wanna shower too," Sam snarked, pushing at Dean until he finally gave in and moved.

"That's nice, Sam," Dean pulled a face. "Classy. I can see why I fell for you now."

"Just don't use all the towels, and don't leave them in a wet heap on the floor," Sam told Dean's butt as he walked through the bathroom door.

"Yeah… yeah… yeah…" Dean mumbled before disappearing out of earshot.

Sam opened the small bedroom window as wide as it would go and straightened up his bedcovers before flopping back on to it. They had to start to be careful while they were there. Angel could discover them at any time and Dean didn't seem to mind… or care… And Sam didn't normally care, either, but Angel knew him from before. She had no idea that Dean had always been more than just his brother, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He listened as the shower switched on and not long after, steam started billowing out of the crack beneath the door. The thought of Dean standing beneath the stream of hot water, naked, and more than likely stroking himself hard again was more than Sam could bear.

Crawling off the bed, he snuck into the bathroom, pulled back the fabric shower curtain and stepped in behind Dean. He pressed flush against Dean's wet back and let his hands slide around his brother's waist.

"Knew you couldn't resist," Dean half-laughed, reaching round for Sam and pulling him in front of him, lips grazing his collarbone, licking into Sam's clavicle.

"Yeah… well…" Sam answered.

"Just gonna have to be quick, then," Dean grinned, dropping to his knees and licking along the length of Sam's already rapidly hardening cock.

There was no such thing as a quick shower where Dean was involved.

~ O ~

They were loitering in front of the kitchen fire when Angel got back from her mother-in-law's house. She looked exhausted, paler than before and eyes so dark and sunken she looked like a ghost.

"Hey," she greeted them tiredly, sinking into the couch in front of the kitchen fire.

"Hey," Sam answered. "You look like you could drink something warm."

"Ohh, tea would be nice, thanks Sam," Angel smiled shallowly.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, putting the kettle on to boil and putting a cup out on the counter ready. "You have a nice time at your mother-in-law's?"

"Kinda. Robert rang to say he's still stuck in the city and won't be home until tomorrow. If I felt better, I'd make a damned good attempt to walk there," she tried to make it sound light-hearted and humorous but the attempt failed.

"I don't think walking would be a very good idea," Dean muttered quietly. "You'll be okay if I go and check on the car? I hate the thought of her sitting out there in the freezing cold… just wanna work over her engine and warm her up. She's not used to being still for so long," he asked Sam, pointedly.

"Yeah, sure," Sam frowned. The kettle cut off when it reached boiling point and Sam tipped hot water onto the lone teabag in the cup. There was something wrong with Dean; he was twitchy almost like he couldn't stand to be around Angel. If Sam had noticed it, he bet Angel had too.

Dean nodded at Angel and swept out of the kitchen. Moments later, the front door opened and closed with a loud thump.

"Is Dean all right?" Angel asked.

Sam passed Angel the cup of chamomile tea and sat down on the couch. "You know what? I'm not sure. He's never normally this quiet or reserved around anyone."

"I don't think he likes me very much," she said quietly, blowing across her tea to cool it.

"I don't think it's that. No, I'm sure that's not what's bothering him," Sam shrugged, trying not to frown and worry her further. "I haven't got a clue what's bothering him but I intend to find out. Will you be okay for a few minutes?" He glanced nervously at her.

"I'll be fine," she smiled. "Actually, you know what? I think I'm gonna go take a nap before I get dinner ready. I think all the walking has tired me out more than I realized."

"That's probably a good idea. Walking in snow is a hell of a lot harder than just walking," he smiled, reaching out to rest his hand on her knee, trying to reassure her. "We will get to the bottom of this, I promise you. We _will_ find out what's going on and stop it."

"I know you will, Sam." She covered his hand with hers, smaller, still cool from outside. "I know you both will. And I thank you for trying in the first place. I'm going to take my tea upstairs with me. If I'm not up in an hour, come wake me so I can get dinner ready."

"Will do." Sam rose with her and walked with her to the bottom of the stairs.

There, she reached up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the smooth skin. "You want to know something? I'm a lot more tolerant of alternative lifestyles than you'd imagine. I know things have changed since Stanford, for you more than anyone I should think, but I'll listen if there's anything you ever want to tell me. I try not to judge anyone."

Sam stared; mouth gaping open. "Huh?"

"It's just… obvious… you're different… more comfortable in your own skin…" She stopped, biting her lip nervously. "You're more obvious than you realize you're being. Both of you. And I just wanted to let you know that it's okay, that I wouldn't judge you. I just want you to be happy, especially after what happened. I'm gonna go nap now, I'm so tired I can barely see straight. I'll see you in about an hour's time."

Sam nodded, eyes still wide and staring. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to thump its way out. He reached blindly for his coat off the hall peg and thrust his arms into the sleeves, not bothering to fasten it against the chill of the cold outside.

Dean was in the garage, lovingly caressing the hood of the Impala as if she were his lover. But Sam would never be jealous of the car… couldn't be after all the times they'd spent together on the backseat.

Dean looked up when he heard Sam slide the garage door open and then back into place after him.

"Angel's gone for a nap," Sam told him.

"Uh huh," Dean nodded, leaning into the side of the car with his arm stretched over her roof, fingertips drumming a beat on the black metal.

"She thinks you don't like her," Sam informed him, skirting around the car to stand the same side Dean was.

"Huh?" Dean chewed the inside of his cheek and stared at his boots.

"You don't like her?"

Dean glanced up at Sam, sucking on his bottom lip. "It's not that I don't like her… it's just that… well, you know…"

"No, dude. That's the problem. Because from where I'm standing it is starting to look like you don't like her," Sam exclaimed, waving his hands about wildly as he fought to keep himself from raising his voice.

"Sam, stop," Dean huffed, a small chuckle following. "It's not her, okay. It's not Angel. It's me. I'd forgotten how hard it is to be guarded around you. How hard it is to not be able to just reach out and touch you, or kiss you. I'd forgotten what it was like to just have to be brothers again. And there's also this whole jealousy-thing I have going on… That she knew you for those years you were gone… That she was one of the ones who got a part of you that I didn't…"

Sam almost laughed with relief, but then he remembered what Angel had told just moments ago. "I'm glad it's not her. I think she's nice and I half-wish whatever was hurting her was supernatural so we could kill it, and she can go back to her life and we can go back to ours. And you know what? There's no need to be jealous. I was okay at Stanford, but I wasn't me there. I was some other Sam, and you don't need that part. Trust me."

"Hmm mm, I do trust you, Sammy. With my life. It's just…" Dean nodded, stepping into Sam's personal space, standing toe to toe. There were some things that he just couldn't put into words, or define, and mostly that was how he felt about Sam. It was like everything – his whole world – was wrapped up in Sam, and Dean was always a tiny bit afraid that one day he'd wake up and Sam would be gone again.

But then Sam was there, licking at his mouth and chasing those fears away again, and Dean had to struggle to remember what they had been talking about… The job, warring with the sheer need he felt for his brother…

"Even if it's human, we can still stop her from getting hurt. That's what we do. God Sammy, I just want you so bad. You think it's `cause we can't be open? You think that might be why I can't keep from wanting you so fuckin' bad?" He grabbed the two front halves of Sam's coat and hauled him against the side of the car.

The air whooshed out of Sam's lungs, then Dean's lips covered his and he thought breathing was over-rated anyway. Dean's hands, sliding roughly into his hair, holding his head at just the right angle to deepen the kiss, until they were rutting hard against each other.

Sam had never known Dean be this horny… Well, yeah… No. Not quite this horny. Not even as a hormone-riddled teen. But Sam wasn't coming in his pants. Not today. It was too freakin' cold for a start. And his balls still ached from coming twice earlier.

He pushed against Dean's chest, hating the look in his brother's eyes – the needing, the wanting…

"I came out here to talk to you, not to have another orgasm," Sam grunted.

Dean snorted in Sam's ear, the whuff of cold air blowing up his hair. "I like orgasms."

"Dude," Sam laughed. "Just stop, okay. Angel… I think she knows about us anyway. She just said we're more obvious than we realize and that she's not going to go all judgmental on us…"

Dean's eyes widen, surprised. "For real?'

Sam shrugged. "As far as I can tell."

"Wow." Still, the revelation didn't have Dean bouncing for joy. It wasn't like he was just going to be able to relax in front of someone who knew what they were… knew that they were brothers. A couple more days and they were going to be out of here, anyway. Hopefully. He just had to keep his hands to himself better during the next few days… and nights. Yeah, he could do that. Dean glanced up at Sam, and yeah… no… he was going to fail miserably. Or happily, depending on the way you viewed it.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me in front of her…"

_Oh, thank God, _ran through Dean's mind quickly.

"I'm just asking you to ease up on her, be a bit friendlier towards her," Sam cupped Dean's jaw between his palms, thumbs rubbing against the stubble Dean insisted on. "Just be your usual charming self around her. But no flirting, just be friendly, okay?"

Yeah, Dean could manage that. He nodded and kissed Sam. Pulling him close, and teasing his tongue into Sam's mouth to lick the taste of him into his own mouth.

It took a push-pull motion to get Sam into the backseat of the Impala, the engine running to keep them warm and the smooth sounds of Black Sabbath as accompaniment to their marathon make-out session, with Ozzy serenading them. Which Dean would have appreciated more if Sam hadn't kept on checking his watch every five minutes.

Dean tried not to grumble – too much – when Sam pulled away and said he was going to wake Angel from her nap. It didn't stop him from following Sam back into the house, hand in hand, nervously glancing around just in case she was already up.

She wasn't.

They hung up their coats and dumped their boots on the mat by the door, and Sam headed upstairs to wake her while Dean headed into the kitchen to set a fresh pot of coffee to brew. Everything seemed better after a cup of good coffee.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:-**

Sam slid the laptop and books onto the kitchen table. "I can't wake her," he frowned.

Dean looked up from where he was crouched in front of the fire, adding more logs to the fluttery blaze already going. "Can't wake her?"

"She's out for the count. Can you get dinner ready while I do some more research? I want to narrow down the plants used recently. I figure those must be the ones that are going into that tonic," Sam paused, taking a deep breath.

"Sure." Dean pursed his lips. Sure he could cook something for dinner… he was a great hand at sandwiches. He was excellent at picking up take-out, or pizza.

"Okay, so I used the term 'cook' loosely," Sam chuckled. "Just see what there is in the fridge and okay, I bet there might be some microwave meals in the freezer. Everyone has an emergency stash of microwave meals in their freezers."

Dean sighed with relief.

"I'm gonna go set the laptop up in the still room, and get this figured out," Sam told him. "You can bring me some coffee, bitch."

Dean snorted hard. He stalked across the room, grabbing Sam around the neck and forcing their eyes to meet. "The day I become your bitch is the day we go our separate ways." But the words were soft and contained no real heat. And when his tongue darted out to flick along Sam's lower lip, he gave up all pretense of being offended.

"Not gonna happen," Sam breathed.

"Too damned right," Dean smirked cockily. "_Bitch_."

Sam laughed. "Jerk. And don't forget my coffee."

In the solarium, Sam set his laptop up on the counter. There wasn't any electricity in the small room but his battery was fully charged, and he hoped he wouldn't be long anyway. The room was cold and kind of eerie. All the time he was in the room, he had goosebumps just from the chill.

While the laptop booted up, Sam walked over to where the plants lined the shelves and ran his finger across each of the pots, studying them carefully to see which ones had been pruned recently. There were about five different ones and he took them over to the counter and placed them next to the computer.

The books he'd bought with him were by the other side, and he flicked open the text book to where he'd earlier found a recipe for a tonic, though it wasn't any kind of tonic he'd have been willing to try himself. The ingredients listed were dubious and he was sure that most of them would've been considered poisonous by nowadays standards.

When the laptop had booted up, Sam googled poisonous plants and scanned the listed websites for one that looked useful. Then he compared what was left of the five plants against the pictures. "Crap," he muttered to himself when he located two of the plants.

"Crap?" Dean echoed, placing a cup of hot, deliciously fragrant coffee on the counter.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Crap. I've found what two of these plants are, and they're listed in this recipe. It's not good."

"What are they, then, Einstein?" Dean curled himself around Sam's back as they both checked the laptop.

Sam shivered as Dean's breath fluttered across his neck, warm and coffee-flavored. "Well, this first one here…" he pointed to one of the pared down plants. "This one is called wormwood. Its most common use is as one of the main ingredients in absinthe. It causes hallucinations, and it contains something called thujone, which is a powerful psychotropic."

"Isn't absinthe like banned or something over here?" Dean picked up the plant pot and twisted it this way and that. It looked inconspicuous and about as harmful as a cloud. But, he as much as Sam, knew that nothing was ever as harmless as it looked.

"Yeah, and for good reason. You should make sure you wash your hands carefully after being in here," Sam told him, then turned back to the screen. "This other one here…" and he used his pen to point to a second plant. "This plant is bloodroot."

Dean didn't pick this one up, but squatted to get a good look at it. He shrugged and waited for Sam to tell him about this one.

"Bloodroot, if taken over a long period of time, can cause vomiting. It also used to be used for encouraging women to menstruate and can cause miscarriage if used during pregnancy," he pulled a soured face. "This one is particularly bad because it also has morphine-like qualities, and can cause faintness. It acts as a sedative, and can give you a confused state of mine."

"And these are both in that stuff Angel was drinking every morning?" Dean grimaced.

"Well, without getting it tested in a lab to be one hundred percent sure, I'd guess yes. And there's something else, too…"

"There's more?" Dean frowned.

"Every plant in this room has a dark use. There is nothing here that could be considered a healing plant. Each and every one as far as my limited knowledge can tell is that they are linked to black magic and dark arts." He looked up at Dean, "I seriously think Angel's mother-in-law is trying to cause her some serious harm, or kill her, even. And I think we should try and get her to the nearest hospital. This crap needs to be flushed out of her system and we can't do that here."

"Sam, we can't. The roads are still blocked. The Impala wouldn't make it to the end of the drive in this, even with the chains on the wheels. The snow plows are coming, but not today. We're just gonna have to hang tight and not let this woman near her. Damn it…" Dean snapped sharply, slamming his fists on the counter and making everything rattle. "I wish her freakin' husband could get back… and that's another thing. You think he's in on this…? You think he has a clue what his momma is doing to his wife while he's holing up in the city?" he waved his arms around the room, indicating all the paraphernalia.

"I don't know. I hope he isn't, but I've never met him. I hope he's completely clueless about it, and I hope he's gonna be there for Angel when he does get back. Speaking of which, I should probably go and check on her again soon, see if I can't wake her for something to eat," Sam sighed. He never thought he'd see the day where human issues would leave him wishing it were something supernatural that they knew how to fight.

"You think she'll be okay?" Dean asked, looking concerned.

"What? Now, or later when we tell her we know it's her mother-in-law trying to cause her harm?" Sam bit his lip, scanning the laptop again.

"Ever? Do these plants cause any long term problems?"

Sam sighed. "I really have no idea. Other than telling us which plants could kill us, and which could cure us, Dad never really went into much detail on that sort of thing."

"I remember that. It was kinda boring, though," Dean admitted.

"Yeah, you were dad's favorite and you never paid attention," Sam snorted.

"Actually, while you and dad were off being the roadside herbalists, I was busy. Busy trying to get _your_ attention for a blow job and you blew me off for a botany lesson," Dean nodded, trying to look serious… and failing.

"Well, be thankful _I_ paid attention and didn't spend all my time giving _you_ blow jobs when dad wasn't looking," Sam groaned. Dean was only ever serious about one thing. Sex.

"I've always loved your blow jobs, Sammy," Dean grinned, wiggling his brows.

"Dean? I am not giving you a blow job now, and certainly not in this room… Okay?"

Dean looked crestfallen… for about five seconds. "We can always go into the kitchen. There's a nice warm fire blazing away in there…"

"Dude… just go wash your hands before you touch anything. I'm gonna tidy this stuff away. And hey, did you find anything in the freezer for dinner?"

Dean perked up. "Only about half a dozen frozen pizzas."

"Great," Sam said, shutting down the laptop and gathering up all his things. "I'm going to leave this room just how we found it, just to be on the safe side. I'll check on Angel while those pizzas cook – no, Dean, not all six of them. Two will be enough."

"Sometimes," Dean pointed his finger at Sam. "Sometimes, you are no fun at all."

"Go wash your hands, Dean."

When Sam came out of the solarium, Dean was humming to himself, staring out of the window as the sun started to set over the snow and making it twinkle like the background to some dark and twisted fairytale.

Setting his things down, he crossed the floor to the sink and washed his hands carefully, making sure he removed every last trace of the deadly plants from his hands.

The smell of the pizzas cooking filled the air, and Sam's stomach rumbled, taking him by surprise. "How long until they're cooked?"

Dean shrugged. "About fifteen minutes or so."

"Okay." Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I'm going upstairs to check on Angel."

Dean nodded, watching him go. His stomach rumbled and he rubbed it absentmindedly. His sexual appetite wasn't the only thing working overtime lately. He'd always been able to eat plenty, burning it off with hunting, training, and even running when the mood took him. But since he'd been here, he was eating more than ever. Maybe it had been down to the fact that he hadn't eaten this much home cooked food since he'd been they'd stayed with Pastor Jim that summer years ago.

Less than five minutes later, Sam was rushing back into the kitchen, breathless and looking like someone had kicked his favorite puppy. "I can't wake her. She's like, well, it's almost like she's in a coma, Dean. I don't know what to do…"

"Hey, hey." Dean stopped what he was doing, which wasn't much, and rushed over to Sam. "Calm down, and breathe slowly. Then tell me again."

Sam shook his head. "We're not equipped to deal with this. We need to… She needs to be in a hospital. Angel won't wake up. I shook her and nothing. It's like a coma or something."

"Well, that's not gonna happen tonight," Dean soothed, rubbing his hand over Sam's back. "Did you check if she was breathing okay? She is breathing, right?"

Sam nodded. "It's shallow, but yeah, she's breathing fine. She looks paler than ever now, though. Like a ghost. Oh crap, Dean. I don't know what to do. Fuck!"

"Call Bobby. He'll know what to do," Dean suggested, already digging his hand into Sam's pants pocket for his cell phone and scrolling through the list. He pressed call and passed the phone to Sam.

"Oh, hey… Bobby. It's Sam…"

Dean listened while Sam explained everything to Bobby, and watched Sam silently while he listened to whatever Bobby was saying on the other end. Clear worry was etched into Sam's features, brows pinched together and creases dividing his forehead. Dean wanted to smooth them out and ease the worry out of him, but that would lead to… yeah, he could get on board with that idea.

His hand had subconsciously moved to rest on Sam's waist, just above the belt holding his pants up, fingertips skimming the sliver of warm skin.

He listened to Sam's occasional 'uh-huh's and 'ahhh right, okay's. He saw the tenseness in his brother's shoulders ease slightly as he listened to whatever Bobby was telling him. He was so into the feel of Sam's back against his chest that after a moment or two, he just forgot to listen at all…

So he was surprised when Sam twisted and with a raise of both eyebrows, handed Dean the cell phone.

Dean took the phone and Sam moved to the fridge, got out a bottle of water and then shut it again. He was aware of Bobby's voice in his ear, and shook himself.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean muttered. And seriously, Sam needed to stop bending over…

"_I've told Sam the basics about how to deal with the girl. But really, she needs to be in a hospital as soon as the roads clear, ya hear?"_

Dean nodded, "Yeah. Sure."

"_Anyway, I've been looking into the carvings on that headboard and boy, let me tell you… You haven't slept in that bed together, have ya?"_

Dean frowned and then his eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"_Just answer the God damn question."_

"Christ, Bobby," Dean growled, snatching the phone away from his ear as Bobby shouted at him. "It's Sam's bed, okay?"

"_But you two haven't been foolin' around in it, have you? Tell me you haven't…"_

Dean swallowed hard, feeling his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He wasn't shocked when his voice came out squeaky. "Well, err… Huh… Maybe?"

"_Oh fer cryin' out loud. When are you two gonna learn to keep your pants up? Those carvings are an ancient fertility rite. Legend goes that couples who sleep together in a bed with those markings will end up quote 'with child' end quote. But seein' as you're both male, I figure you should both be okay."_

Dean laughed. He couldn't stop himself. He'd never heard anything as ridiculous and he managed to tell Bobby that through the tears falling down his cheeks. He was aware Sam was looking at him, an odd expression on his face, obviously wondering what had made him laugh so hard.

"_Well, we'll see how hard you laugh if that comes true." _Bobby snarled. _"Don't say I didn't warn you." _The phone clicked as Bobby hung up.

Dean clutched the phone tightly in his hand, shaking his head as laughter still bubbled up inside him. "Bobby is seriously losing it," he said to Sam.

"Why? What did he say to you?" Sam frowned, taking the cell phone from Dean's hand and after checking the line was dead, he tucked it back in his pocket.

"Nothing really, just a big bunch of crazy. What did he tell you?" Dean quickly changed the subject. He wasn't about to tell Sam that crazy story because, well, he had enough on his plate without worrying about old folklore – which wasn't going to come true anyways… `cause men don't get pregnant, unless a succubus was involved and a whole lot of voodoo chanting… or something like that.

Sam was staring at him, and Dean was hoping he hadn't said any of that out loud, `cause yeah… crap.

"Well," Sam started. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale…"

"I'm fine, Sammy. Tell me what Bobby said." Dean did his best to hold the giggle in, running his hand over his face and scrubbing into his hair.

"Basically, just keep her warm, watch over here… If she wakes, to offer her water or anything that can't be contaminated in any way." He huffed out a sigh, "So I'm gonna take this up and leave it by her bed," he waved the bottle of water. "I'm thinking I should maybe stay in her room tonight, just in case she wakes or something."

"Okay. Might be for the best… if she wakes up disorientated or something," Dean agreed. "You want me to bring the pizza up when it's done?"

Sam nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Yeah… Sure… Thanks…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:-**

Dean checked on the food, and pulled it out of the oven just in time to stop the whole thing from being blackened. Stupid oven. He'd been so distracted by what Bobby had said that he'd totally forgotten about the pizzas. Even the smell of them starting to burn hadn't been enough to pull him from his deep imagination.

It was just too preposterous to even contemplate. Sammy getting knocked up? Too utterly ridiculous to spend a moments time thinking about.

He poked the well done pizzas and hoped they didn't taste too burnt.

Then, without bidding, an image of a toddler that looked half like Sam and half like himself eating pizza, sat on a motel bed somewhere, with he and Sam sitting either side, laughing at something on the television filled his mind.

He blinked.

Snorted.

Shook his head.

Blinked again.

"Nah," he muttered to himself. "I'm getting snow-madness or something stupid like that… been cooped up here for too long. That's all that was…"

He rummaged through the drawers until he found a knife sharp enough to cut the pizza into slices, then rummaged again until he found a couple of plates, sliding the still warm slices onto them.

They couldn't raise a child living in cheap roadside motels, even though that was the way he and Sam had been raised. No, their kid deserved better than that. Their kid deserved a home and…

Crap.

Dean stopped what he was doing and frowned.

That was wrong. They wouldn't be raising a kid period. `Cause men can't get knocked up. Physical impossibility and all that jazz.

Dean was starting to wonder if he'd somehow managed to lick his fingers after touching the plants in the solarium earlier. He was having wacky thoughts because he'd touched hallucinogenic plants, that was it…

He washed his hands again, even though he knew it was pointless. Bobby had put the suggestion in his mind, not some plant with dubious uses. And the pizza was going to be cold before he took any up to Sam.

Finding a tray, he piled on the plates and a bunch of paper towels before climbing the stairs to find Sam.

He needed to stop these wild thoughts before Sam asked him again what was on his mind… `cause Sam always got his own way where Dean was concerned, and if Sam thought Dean was keeping something from him, he'd pay for it. In subtle ways… like no blow jobs for a month and other forms of torture in that same vein.

Pushing open the door, he saw that the room was more or less in total darkness. Sam had closed the curtains halfway to block out what little light was left. Angel was curled up in bed, on her side, knees drawn up under the covers making her look like a child.

Sam motioned at him to push the door too, so he balanced on one leg and pushed it almost closed with his foot.

Tiptoeing across the floor, he put the tray down on the carpet by Sam's feet, squatted down, and passed him a plate.

"She's still out of it?" Dean whispered, motioning the prone form on the bed with a flick of his eyes.

"Pretty much," Sam nodded. "She was dreaming earlier, but not enough to wake her, so most likely not a nightmare."

"That's good… I mean, that it wasn't a nightmare." Dean bit into his tepid pizza.

"Dude, this is almost cold. What were you doing down there?" Sam laughed softly.

Dean coughed, trying not to choke on the food he'd been swallowing. "I… umm… I just lost track of time."

"Did you at least bring me a soda? Tell me you bought me a soda?" Sam snorted quietly.

Dean looked at the tray and groaned, slapping his palm to his face.

Sam snorted louder, but still not enough to disturb Angel. "Dude, you suck at this whole domesticated thing. Go grab me a soda, and be quick about it."

"God, Sammy," Dean moaned, throwing his arms up in the air like a toddler about to tantrum, except he was grinning widely and his eyes twinkled mischievously. "You are one _hell_ of a bossy bitch." Still, he got up and crept out of the room.

He stomped downstairs, the domesticated thing buzzing through his brain. He'd always pictured Sam as the domesticated one, if they ever had the chance to settle down. _If._ But he knew deep down that wasn't ever going to happen. But Sam was the girl in this relationship, so he had to play the little wife in his deranged fantasy, staying at home, cooking and cleaning and shit.

Dean was starting to think he'd been roofied or something, `cause his imaginings were getting wild.

He paced the kitchen to the fridge and opened the door, grabbing two cold cans and wishing there was at least some pie in there he could binge on. He needed something sweet to counterbalance the weird feelings he was having. Well, that's what he was telling himself anyway.

He slammed the door shut and almost dropped the sodas on the floor. "Dude. Will you please not do that…?"

Castiel just shook his head. "I warned you not to come here."

"Can I like, I dunno, put a bell around your neck or something?" he mumbled sarcastically.

Castiel looked at Dean with a raised brow, almost as if daring him, or just showing how completely exasperating he found the human.

"What do you want, anyway?" Dean said with a sigh.

"I told you that coming here would be a bad idea. You should just leave now," Castiel told him, his gaze drifting the sodas in Dean's hands.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged. "We can't just leave. The roads are blocked and the Impala would never make it through the drifts."

"You can leave tomorrow. The weather has already started to change," Castiel told him with a pointed look.

"We can't leave Angel," Dean paused, snorted, and then carried on. "We can't leave Angel while she's unconscious.

"She'll wake up in the morning," Castiel informed Dean.

"Yeah? You know that?" Dean narrowed his eyes. He hated the way Castiel only ever gave him half the information. To say it was frustrating was an understatement.

"Yes."

Dean shook his head. "How? How can you know that? She could be out of it for days after Sam found out what she's been tricked into drinking… thinking it's making her better…"

"She'll wake up in the morning. When she wakes up, you and your brother leave this place."

"See, I'd go along with that _if_ _I knew what the damn hell we gotta run from here,_" Dean snapped sharply. "You talk in frickin' riddles, you know that?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel held his arms out. "I tell you more than I'm supposed to… than I'm _allowed _to as it is."

"You tell me _nothing_. Nothing!" Dean shouted, annoyance seethed through his veins. "Either tell me why it's so God-damn important that Sam and I leave here, and maybe I'll listen…"

"Ancient magic," Castiel interrupted him. "This place is full of ancient magic. Dangerous magic. You have no idea how powerful magic this old can be."

"So what? You want us to leave here because… oh… yeah… magic? Like we've never faced magic before."

Castiel took a deep breath in. "Not magic of this nature. This magic could have the potential to threaten everything you were raised for. I raised you, Dean, and I can easily send you back."

"Oooh no," Dean laughed bitterly. "Oh no. no, no. Don't you dare threaten me with that again."

Castiel growled. "Don't try my patience." Of all the angel's charges, Dean was the most frustrating, most disobedient, most annoying one of all.

"Either tell me what the fuck is going on, or just leave," Dean growled back.

"Angel is a good person. She won't be allowed to pass over just yet. When she wakes up in the morning, tell her what you know about her husband's mother, and then leave this place. You need to get Sam away from here."

"Why?"

Castiel shook his head slowly. He knew God had a bigger plan for Dean but sometimes, just sometimes, Castiel wished he was someone else's charge. "I believe the hunter has already informed you of why."

"The bed?" Dean acknowledged.

"The bed." Castiel echoed.

Dean's eyes widened. So it was true, then. About the bed. And if Castiel was worried about it, then…

"Though it's probably already too late," Castiel said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"It's just a stupid bed…"

Castiel shook with either frustration, or anger, even he wasn't sure anymore. "No. It's not just a bed. It's a bed fashioned out of wood, engraved with symbols of an ancient and powerful magic. A spell woven into the wood before it was even cut from the tree itself. A magic so old and powerful not even I could help mend what's done."

"So, you're telling me that even though Sam's a guy, he could still…" he inclined his head, refusing to say the words out loud. Because, yeah, this was getting just this side of freaky now.

"It's not impossible."

Dean stared, wide eyed, at the angel… who stared back just as intensely.

Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the possibility that maybe… but no, it was impossible… no matter how much he hoped… wished…

His attention switched when one of the cooling sodas threatened to slip from his hand, the condensation loosening his grip. And when he looked up, Castiel had disappeared. Again.

Damn it.

Damn him.

Dean stood still, his body completely motionless as he let his mind run rampant with the thoughts of what might be…

Yeah, because them having a kid? That was gonna work out so well. For one thing, neither of them had ever really known a life other than crappy motel rooms, squatting when the occasion arose, or being palmed off when dad had been on a hunt too dangerous for them to go with him.

And no matter what happened, Dean didn't want that for their kid.

Dean snorted. Maybe the freakin' weird mother-in-law from hell had drugged him somehow too, because now he was actually making plans for a kid that couldn't happen thanks to a physical impossibility.

He was turning into a girl. Next he'd be sprouting a vagina and wanting to paint his nails.

Mentally giving himself a shakedown, Dean ran up the stairs, two at a time, and almost crashed through Angel's bedroom door.

"Dude," Sam rolled his eyes. "I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep downstairs."

"Nah," Dean shook his head, though it was almost too dark to notice with the door shut. "You finish eating?"

"Yeah," Sam answered with a sigh. "Just waiting on my lazy-ass brother to bring me a soda."

Dean snorted softly.

"So? Why were you so long?" Sam popped the top of his drink and gulped loudly.

"I'll tell you later. It's nothing to worry about. Drink your soda and try and get some sleep, okay?" Dean knew he should maybe perhaps mention some of what Castiel had told him, but for that same reason, he couldn't bring himself too. Not yet, anyway. Or not at all, unless it became necessary to.

"You gonna get some sleep, too? You should go get in your bed and get some rest," Sam yawned as quietly as he could.

"Yeah." Because that's exactly what he needed, more time alone to brood. "But I'm sleeping in your bed."

"And you call me a girl," Sam laughed softly.

"You are a girl, Sammy." Dean stood up, bent, and kissed Sammy as soundly as he dare without starting something they couldn't finish. "Sleep well, and shout me if you need me."

Dean doubted very much that he'd get much sleep with his brain on overdrive and his body aching for his brother's… but he tried… the dreams he had were disturbing to say the least, and somewhere around three in the morning, he gave up, crept downstairs and curled up next to Sam on the small couch.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:-**

Sam yawned awake, startling slightly at the warm soft body lying next to him. He'd been alone when he'd finally fallen asleep, after lying awake half the night worrying. He rubbed at his eyes, willing them to open. The body beside him shifted, grumbled and rolled back into the warmth of his own.

"Hey," Dean mumbled sleepily.

"Hey. When did you creep into bed with me…?" Sam wrapped his arm around the familiar shape of Dean and snuggled in closer still.

"Middle of the night… Can't sleep without you…" The short sentences were punctuated by more sleepy yawns.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, nuzzling the damp hair at Dean's temple. It was then that he remembered where they were. He let out an undignified squawk and pushed Dean off the chaise, glancing at Angel's bed. It was empty.

"Dude… what the fuck did you do that for?" Dean grumbled from the crumpled heap he'd landed in on the floor, the blankets still wrapped around him.

"We're in Angel's bedroom…"

Dean cut him off. "But you said she knew about us, and that she was okay about it, and I hate sleeping without you, and…"

"No, dude… Look, she's gone." This time it was Sam interrupting Dean, pointing at the large, and very empty, bed.

"Gone where?" Dean frowned, peering through scrunched up eyes. He held out his hand for his brother to haul him up off the floor.

Sam pulled him up. He was chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I just woke up too."

Dean leaned over and punched Sam on the shoulder, screwing up his face in annoyance. "Smart ass."

"I hope she's okay. Maybe she just went to the bathroom or something… it's been a while…" Sam said, biting his cheek.

"You check the bathroom and I'll check… somewhere else…" he shrugged, blinking rapidly as Sam leaned across and kissed him.

They searched but she was nowhere upstairs, which only left the downstairs. Together they made their way down the main staircase, hearing soft feminine humming coming from the vicinity of the kitchen.

Angel looked up, smiling, as they both burst into the room at the same time.

"Morning you two. I didn't expect you up yet, the way you were curled around each other this morning. Thought I'd better give you both some privacy…"

"Huh?" Dean stared wide-eyed and surprised.

"Angel? You okay?" Sam asked, stepping towards her.

"I feel great this morning. Well, truthfully, I feel like I have one bad hang-over, but I'm pretty certain I haven't been drinking… Or maybe I have, because I can tell you I have been having some wild-ass dreams while I was out of it…" She took a sip of the coffee she'd been nursing, watching them both over the top of the cup.

"Yeah?" Sam queried, squinting at her questioningly.

"I guess you want me to tell you about them, huh?" she nodded. She set the coffee cup down on the counter and sighed deeply.

"That would be a good idea," Sam encouraged, taking her hand in his.

"It sounds silly, saying it out loud… but… I kinda dreamt about angels… no, just one angel. He kept telling me that I was going to wake up and feel like it was the first day of the rest of my life… That I had nothing to fear anymore. And it's really weird because he made me feel so peaceful and calm inside. All I have felt lately is fear and loneliness, you know? But this angel made me feel like things were finally over. And I tell you, I woke up this morning and I felt healthier and more alive than I have done for weeks, months even."

Sam glanced at Dean, only to find Dean was staring wide-eyed back at him. Dean inclined his head, which Sam knew meant: _'You think this is Castiel's doing?'_. Sam nodded.

"That's good, Angel. I'm really glad that you're feeling better, though I still think getting checked out at the hospital once the roads clear will be a good idea," Sam told her

"I know, and I will. Once Robert gets home, I don't think he'll take no for an answer on that issue anyway. God, I bet you wish I'd never called you now, don't you?" Angel said quietly, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"Hey, no," Sam rubbed her shoulder gently, encouraging her to look at him. "This is what we do, Angel. Okay, so yeah, it usually is the supernatural we deal with, but we'll always try to help out a friend, no matter what."

"Thanks Sam… and you Dean. I know it must have been hard for both of you… to be here… and have to pretend. I'm really very grateful to you… both of you." She gave them both a small, almost shy smile before something struck her. "You say this isn't anything supernatural? But what about all the stuff that's been happening to me…?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm afraid everything that's been happening to you is a result of human causes not supernatural causes. And we think we know how and who, maybe you could supply the why?" The last part came out as a question not an answer.

"You'd better tell me everything… over a cup of coffee," she nodded, moving away from Sam and pouring them both out a fresh cup of steaming hot fragrant coffee.

"Thanks," Dean smiled, taking the offered cup and sipping. He still felt wary of being around Angel, even knowing she didn't outright disapprove of his relationship with Sam. It felt wrong somehow, like lying to people they didn't know was okay, but having someone who knew they were brothers and 'together' but still didn't mind? Okay, inside, he was silently freaking out…

"I need to get the laptop and a couple of books before I start. I'm just gonna go get them from upstairs," Sam explained, glancing at Dean.

Dean saw the warning look in Sam's eyes and instantly knew Sam had automatically picked up on his thoughts. He bit out a tight smile and focused his attention on his coffee.

Once Sam had gone, Angel caught his eye and gave him a knowing look. "I understand that you don't trust me, Dean. You don't know me very well, and I'm guessing that trust doesn't come easy to someone like you. But I have to tell you this: Sam was always kind to me at college. He didn't have to be, but it's in his nature to be nice to people. He loves you, and I'm not just talking about you being his brother. I've seen the way you two look at each other, and no matter how good you think you are at hiding it, you can't. so I'm guessing that you love him just as much back, right?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, setting his cup down and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting to see what came next.

Angel carried on even though he hadn't answered. "Thought so. I just wanted to let you know that this secret between you? I'll keep it. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I like you. Both of you. And there's no denying the sexual tension between you… it's like being caught in testosterone central when you're both in the room…" she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "I really need to learn when to shut up, don't I? No, no. Don't answer that." She laughed again.

Dean couldn't help the smirk that slid across his face. Seeing Angel blush beetroot red was the highlight of this hunt.

Angel was still laughing when Sam re-entered the room. "Okay, what did I miss?" He threw a curious glance at his brother, who just shrugged, smirk still curving his lips.

"We're just laughing at what an idiot I am," Angel explained, rolling her eyes. "Ignore me, I'm just going to take my foot out of my mouth while you tell me what's been going on…"

"Right," Sam drew the word out as he set up the laptop on the table and opened one of the books where it had been bookmarked.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said softly, as he came to stand slightly behind his brother, hand on his shoulder and fingers curling affectionately into his hair. "Just tell Angel what we know."

Sam nodded, suspicion coloring his eyes. "Angel, I… we… understand that some of this might seem a little far-fetched but it's the best we could do with the roads being closed and not having a lab or anything handy. First things first, the plants in the solarium, you say the only person who goes in there is Rosemary, your mother-in-law, right?"

"That's right. Even old Mrs. Medford doesn't go in there to clean. Not after Rosemary went crazy at her the one time she did, anyway," Angel told him, puzzlement written plainly on her face.

"Well," Sam started, pausing to chew on his bottom lip, worrying the skin. "Well, according to my research, the plants in there are all poisonous. They're still classed as herbs, but each of them has a dark use. The ones that have been cut recently are wormwood and blood root. And both of those would cause the symptoms you've been suffering from. Hallucinations, sickness, listlessness, nightmares, to name a few. There's a doctor in the city who is willing to test out the tonic for you and tell you exactly what is in it. I'll write his name and number down for you."

"So… what? You're telling me that my mother-in-law is doing this to me? But why? Why would she do that?" Angel shook her head vehemently, total disbelief in her eyes. "I don't understand why she would do something like this to me. I thought she liked me. Told me she was overjoyed to have a daughter to dote on at last. Couldn't wait for the grandbabies to start popping out. Are you sure about this? Sure about her?"

"As sure as we can be," Sam assured her. "But I couldn't tell you why she's doing this, though."

"Actually, I think I might have an explanation of some sort." A man's voice said from the hallway.

They'd been so caught up in explaining that none of them had heard the opening and closing of the door.

"Robert," Angel gasped, jumping up from her seat at the table and flying out into the hallway.

Sam and Dean looked at each other as the muffled sounds of kissing, and whispers of '_I missed you… I love you…_' filled the air.

Then, after the briefest of introductions, they all went back to the kitchen table.

"You were going to tell us something about your mother?" Dean prompted.

"Yeah," Robert took a deep breath. "Before… before I knew Angel, I dated a couple of other girls. One wasn't serious, but one, well, it was. Serious, that is. She got sick too. Very sick. Her parents insisted on taking her to the hospital – which is where you're going as soon as we're done here," Robert interrupted himself to tell Angel his plans. "Anyway, they found out that she had been ingesting small amounts of a toxic substance. No one could work out how or why, or where it had come from. We put it down to a mix up or a contamination somewhere along the line."

"Did she get better?" Angel asked before anyone else could speak.

"Yeah, right after her parents made her dump me," Robert admitted with a resigned shrug. "I didn't even start putting two and two together when Angel started showing the same symptoms a couple of weeks ago. I just figured she was doing too much out here and maybe wasn't eating enough. It was only yesterday that I realized they were the exact same symptoms and the only persons linking them were me and my mother – and I know for a fact _I _wouldn't have ever harmed either of you, so it had to be her. I'm so dumb sometimes, sorry baby."

Robert pulled Angel into his arms and held her tightly, placing feather-light kisses in her hair. "I should have been here… I tried, I really did but the roads were so bad even in the city. I even thought about trying to walk it here. Then this morning the news report stated that the local snow ploughs had managed to make headway, so I jumped in the car and made it here. I never even thought to call or anything, but I think the phone lines are back on too…"

"Shh," Angel soothed, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him and chase the panic away from his voice. "It's okay. I'm okay. And Sam and Dean were here…"

"Fuck! If anything had happened to you…"

Angel cupped her husband's cheeks in her small palms and kissed him again. "Well, I'm okay, thanks to these two."

Robert glanced at the brothers. "You know, I can never thank you enough for what you've done."

"No, we can't," Angel agreed.

"No thanks necessary, huh Sam?" Dean told them, his eyes on his brother. Truth was, they hadn't really done much at all, except point the finger of blame at the one person who was apparently responsible.

"Not at all. What do you guys plan to do now?" Sam asked inquiringly

"Well, first things first. I plan on getting Angel checked out at the local hospital. Once I know she's going to be okay long term as well as short term, and get that stuff checked out with the doctor you mentioned. Then I am going to move us both back to our place in the city. And after that, I intend to have an almighty showdown with my mother," Robert told them decisively and determined.

"Do you want Dean and me to come with you?" Sam offered.

Robert considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head. "Thanks but no. You guys have done enough for us as it is. And to be honest, I'm kinda looking forward to this. My mom has been on back to marry a suitable girl since the day I hit sixteen. I finally find her myself," Robert glanced lovingly at Angel as he spoke. "I finally find the girl of my dreams and my mom tries to make her sick. So, no thanks guys. I appreciate the offer, but I think the rest is down to me."

"If you're sure?" Sam turned to look at Angel for affirmation. When she agreed with her husband, Sam nodded. "Okay then."

Angel slipped out of Robert's arms and came to stand in front of Sam. "Seriously, Sam. I can't thank you, or Dean, enough for what you've done. You might not think it's much but it is… to us, it is. Thank you."

Sam took Angel's hands in his. "As long as you're safe, that's thanks enough." He looked over at Dean, who looked awkward, standing with his hands stuffed inside his jeans pockets as far as they'd go. Sam felt that familiar pang he always felt when Dean had that vulnerable edge to his stance. "We should get going and leave you guys to… ahhh… sort stuff out…"

"You guys don't want to stay for dinner?" Angel smiled, letting go of Sam and making her way back to her husband's side. "I could make something quickly while you pack – not that I'm trying to get rid of you, or anything."

Sam smiled a tiny smile at Dean before shaking his head. "That's okay, If it's all the same with you, the quicker we hit the roads, the better. We'll just go pack and leave you two in peace."

Angel smiled softly, her eyes shining wetly. "Thank you, Sam. And thank you too, Dean. For everything."

"It was our pleasure, ma'am," Dean acknowledged. And it was. It wasn't every hunt they walked away from unscathed, or without one or the other of them needing medical help in some form or another. But now he just wanted to get gone. "But if it's okay with you, I'd kinda like us to be on the road sooner rather than later."

"Okay," Angel nodded. "Just give me a shout when you're packed and ready to go, please."

When Dean and Sam reached the attic, Sam grasped his hand around Dean's wrist. "You okay? You seem more than eager to leave this place…"

"I'm fine Sammy. I just wanna be out of here before those two lovebirds start doing the horizontal mambo, know what I mean?"

Sam snorted quietly. "Yeah. I guess they have a bit of lost time to make up for, still being newlyweds and all. But there's something else?"

"I guess. I just want us to not have to pretend any more. And yeah, yeah, I know she knows, but it's not the same." Then Dean wiggled his brows salaciously. "And I kinda wanna do our own horizontal mambo…"

Sam snorted again, louder. "Never change, please Dean. Just promise me, you'll never change."

They both chuckled, throwing what little they had unpacked into their duffle bags. And as they left the attic rooms, Dean stalled in the doorway, taking one last long look at Sam's bed, and the intricate carvings etched into the wooden frame. One last wish… one last hope… and then he followed Sam downstairs to say their final goodbyes.

"I made you sandwiches and put some snacks and sodas in for the journey. Goodbye, Dean," Angel said, handing Dean a box.

Dean took it, thanking her. "I'll go get the car while you say goodbye, Sammy."

When Dean was out of sight, Angel turned to Sam and pulled him down into a firm embrace. "Promise me you'll always look after each other. True love is hard enough to find without letting it slip through your fingers," she whispered softly in Sam's ear before kissing his cheek affectionately.

Sam blinked, looking down at her, chewing on his lip. "Promise," he said quietly.

"Don't be strangers. You're welcome any time," Robert told them as they loaded up the Impala's trunk, keeping the weapons box hidden from their view.

When the final goodbyes had been said, and Dean and Sam were seated in the familiar surroundings of Dean's beloved car, they set off down the drive and towards the main road.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:-**

They were about a hundred and fifty miles outside of Lincoln when Dean spoke next. "You feel guilty about leaving them back there to deal with the fall-out alone?"

"Yeah, I guess. A little bit. You?" Sam looked up from the paper they'd picked up at a rest stop a few miles back. He massaged the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed

"I did, for maybe five minutes. I gotta say though, that woman, she's seriously got one fucked up Oedipal thing going on, Sammy. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Demons I get, its people that are just crazy."

Sam frowned. "I think you have that wrong, Dean. Oedipus was in love with his mother, not the other way around. But yeah, I get what you're saying. And yeah, I'm glad it's over, too."

"Whatever," Dean smirked. "Just let's stick to the supernatural hunts from now on out, 'kay?"

"Okay," Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So, what's the plan now? I mean, we don't have another hunt lined up or anything…"

Dean smirked harder, more lasciviously. "I'mma gonna pull off at the first roadside motel we pass and fuck you three ways to Sunday. If that's all right with you…"

Sam snorted loudly. Hell yeah, that was more than all right by him.

"And I'mma gonna fuck you so hard, you're gonna scream my name until you have no fuckin' voice left…"

Sam didn't snort this time around. This time he just sighed as if all the breath in his lungs was on fire. "Better find one quick…" he breathed, voice instantly raw with heated passion and desire, low and thick like molasses. He reached across the seats and rubbed his palm along the ridge Dean's rapidly hardening cock formed beneath the denim confines.

"Sammy…" Dean groaned hotly. "Gonna fuck you up against the wall… in the shower… on the bed… on the fuckin' floor…"

Sam covered his own cock with other hand and pressed against the heated column. It did nothing to help the pressure he felt growing in his balls.

"Gotta find somewhere quick…" he grunted, close to coming in his pants, rutting against Sam's hand rubbing through the various layers of his clothing. "Sammy… gonna make me crash if you keep that up… and when I come I wanna come buried deep in your ass…"

"Find a motel quick…" Sam gasped, close to coming himself.

True to his word, the next roadside motel they saw, Dean swung the Impala into the parking lot out front and had them a double room for the night. They didn't bother getting their bags from the trunk, and they were barely through the door before they were on one another.

Lips claiming… teeth clashing… hands possessing… bodies, hard and lean, needing release…

Dean slammed Sam up against the wall, kissed him hard enough to split his lip, tongue pushing into his brother's mouth eagerly, possessively, tasting, exploring.

Hands pushed at clothing, tearing, fisting, clutching at fabric in a bid to get to the smooth, heated skin beneath. Muscles tensed, firm and hard as they each made short work of their clothing, dropping it on the floor, not caring where it fell. Fingers tracing beloved lines to favorite body parts.

Sam fitted his hand on the handprint covering Dean's shoulder.

Dean's fingertips traced the scars on his brother's body that he hadn't been there to tend. Aching… longing… precious need… all jumbled into their lust as they careened towards the bed.

"Fuck… lube…" Dean muttered, leaving Sam's side for less than a moment while he scrabbled around in his jacket pockets, trying to find the small bottle he'd sneaked in there earlier. "Got it…" he waved the bottle like a trophy and then pounced back on Sam, now stretched out on the crappy motel bed.

Dean lay on top of Sam, lining up their cocks and just rubbing – not touching, just using the sublime length of his body against the sensitive head of his brother's cock, using Sam the same way.

He could feel the slippery pre-come leaking out between them, but had no idea if it was his, Sam's or a mixture of both. He didn't care. He was too far gone to think clearly any longer.

Reaching between them, Dean wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and slid his palm along the length of the shafts, loving Sam's groan… loving the way his back arched into it, thrusting his cock against Dean's… against his fingers… smearing their juices together…

"Fuck, Dean… Keep doing that and I'll come…" Sam panted out, hips thrusting helplessly into Dean's fist.

"You're not coming until I'm buried deep in your ass," Dean ground out, biting back his own need to come. He pulled his hand out from between them and licked across his slick palm, tasting them both. Nothing could ever taste as good as they did together, like they were made for each other, belonged to no one but each other.

"Better get a move on, then…" Sam growled. "`Cause I'm so close already…"

Now was not the time for foreplay. Niceties could be done later. Now was the time to satiate raw need and satisfy aching hunger.

Dean wrapped his hand around the lube bottle and quickly flicked the lid with his thumb nail, spreading the viscous fluid down his fingers. He circled Sam's hole with his fingertip, smearing lube around the tight pucker.

Dean felt Sam's body shudder as he slipped the tip of one finger inside him, thrusting deeper and deeper and only adding a second and a third when Sam begged for more.

Unable to resist, Dean shimmied down the length of Sam's body to lick and suck at his leaking cock, taking the head into his mouth and swallowing as much as he could until Sam's long fingers twisted tight in his short hair, pulling, and directing a husky growl at him.

"If you don't want me to come yet, stop teasing me and fuck me already," Sam gasped, unable to stop his hips from bucking involuntarily.

Dean let Sam's cock go with a wet-sounding slurp. Grinning lasciviously, he stalked back up Sam's body, pushing his thighs wide and grasping up the lube bottle again. Seconds later, his own cock was slicked and in his hand, swollen head pushing against his brother's hole.

Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and thrust his hips up until Dean was fully seated inside him, thick and hard and deep.

"Fuck me," Sam panted thickly.

Dean slid out and thrust back in.

"Fuck me," Sam panted louder, begging.

Again, Dean slid out, only to slam home, harder, deeper.

"Fuck me," Sam ground out, voice hoarse and raw. "Fuck me…"

Dean levered himself on his arms and withdrew so that just the swollen tip of his cock remained inside Sam. Taking a deep breath, Dean rocked back into Sam, burying himself to the hilt, over and over, finding the speed and rhythm they both needed from this.

Though it felt like hours, they lasted just a few short minutes before Sam came, spurting thick jets of milky come between them, catching both his and Dean's abdomens in the process and shouting out his brother's name, chanting it over and over until he couldn't come any more.

The heady scent of his brother's come filled Dean's nose and within seconds, he was coming himself, aided by the rapid clenching of Sam's ass around his cock, and filling Sam with gush after gush of thickly viscous semen.

Collapsing on top of Sam, Dean panted heavily, breathless and boneless. It had been short, sharp and perfect in their own fucked up way. He started to roll off Sam, but Sam just tightened his arms around him and held Dean tightly.

"Not yet… don't go… need to feel you… inside…" Sam panted incoherently.

Dean could feel himself softening inside Sam, could feel his release against the sensitive glans, wet and warm… knew that when he pulled out, they were gonna need to clean up… but he couldn't make himself move. With his face buried in Sam's sweat-dampened neck, Dean brushed wet kisses against the smooth curve, sucked on Sam's earlobe and bit gently. An intimate – loving – gesture.

Sam in turn stroked as much of Dean as he could reach, hands skimming lightly down his back, short nails dragging along his sides, tickling but not tormenting. Fingertips tracing intricate patterns on his skin that only Sam understood, but what Dean guessed were sigils of some sort.

Since Castiel had pulled him out of Hell, it was something Sam did a lot of. Tracing incantations on his skin after sex.

Thinking about Cas just made Dean remember the angel's words… the possibilities too obscure to contemplate… but there anyway…

Sam's breathing was starting to even out, deepen in Dean's ear and Dean took the moment to move, to slide out of Sam's body and roll to the side. He waited while Sam shifted, turned on his side and curled up. Dean smoothed his brother's hair out of his eyes, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Sam's forehead.

Sliding out of bed, Dean padded barefoot and naked to what he figured must be the bathroom since the only other door was slim and looked like a closet door.

The bathroom was chilly and the sweat he'd worked up with Sammy had cooled on his skin, causing Dean to shiver. He used the toilet quickly and then washed his hands at the sink, waiting for the water to run warm enough to dampen the end of one of the thin motel issue towels so that he could clean Sam up a little bit before they slept.

His hand was on the door handle when a voice made him startle. "You made all the wrong choices."

"I never claimed to be anything other than what I am," Dean whispered, his eyes falling shut, his teeth biting into his lower lip.

"I never expected you to be anything other than what you are," Castiel replied.

"What do you want, Cas? I'm tired and all I want to crawl into bed beside Sam and just sleep." Dean turned around to face the angel, unabashed at his own nakedness – until he felt Castiel's eyes rake down the length of his body.

"I don't want anything," Castiel growled. "I just want you to consider the choices you made."

"Yeah, but they were our choices to make…"

"No," Castiel stopped him. "Not Sam's. He has no idea the path you've set him on. The choices _you _made for the both of you."

"We want the same things," Dean snarled, taking a step closer to Castiel and meeting his eyes.

"How could you know what Sam wants?" Castiel frowned, his eyes shimmered intensely as if he were looking deep inside what was left of dean's shattered soul. "What if I gave you the same choices you gave Sam?"

"You can't do that," Dean retorted, narrowing his eyes daringly.

"You don't know what I can do," Castiel raged restrained. "You have no idea the extent of my powers."

Dean stepped even closer to the angel, lips drawn in a snarl. "The things I have seen… the things I have done… the things that are out there… and you think you can scare me? You have no fuckin' idea."

Castiel closed the distance between them, eyes flickering angrily. He grasped Dean's face in his hands and pressed his lips to Dean's.

Flashes of images filtered through Dean's mind. Snippets, like old snapshots, grainy and unfocused. A cottage. Overgrown, thick with weeds and trees too big but still somewhere better than anywhere. Sam, smiling. Dean smiling back. A kid with blond curls running from one to the other, a football at his feet. Happy laughter…

Castiel pulled away, leaving Dean panting, confused.

"You think that's what you're going to have?" Castiel asked, a cruel edge in his voice.

"We can have whatever we want. You can't take this away from us," Dean maintained.

"How? How can you, when Sam has no idea what he's gotten into? How can you have this when hunting is in your blood? When you have a path to follow?" Castiel surged forward again and pressed his lips against Dean's, showing him another way.

This time Dean was alone. He could feel the ache inside him, and he knew he was completely alone. Nothing but searing desperation pulsed through his veins. Misery hid in the corners of his soul. There was no Sam here. No laughing child. No pretense of normality or happiness. And it made Dean sore inside, made him ache and scream and sob for the dream he wanted…

Castiel pulled away again. "You need to tell Sam what he's walking into."

"Don't take this away from us… from me…" Dean whispered, voice broken, eyes pleading in desperation, lashes wetly spiked. "Don't… Cas…"

Castiel cradled Dean's face in his palms, almost tenderly the way a lover would, thumbs brushing the tears away. "It's not my choice to make. It's yours. It's always been yours."

Dean opened his eyes and he was alone. His hands clutched the cold damp rag he'd picked up to clean up Sam. He dropped it into the sink, leaning over and staring at his reflection in the grimy mirror. He knew in his heart he should tell Sam, but truthfully? He was scared. He was scared that Sam would walk away from him forever. Dean couldn't live without Sam by his side – he'd had to once before and Dean knew he couldn't do it again. He couldn't take the chance that Sam would leave him… alone… until he knew… one way or the other…

Ha! Like it was going to happen, anyway. Not only was it impossible, it was also ludicrous.

Dean snapped off the light and closed the door behind him, crawling into bed beside Sam and curling tightly around him, hand splayed across his brother's smoothly muscled stomach and let his mind play make-believe with him.

It couldn't hurt to dream.

**~ finis ~**


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